


The Stars Are Yours

by lilly5128



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Romance, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilly5128/pseuds/lilly5128
Summary: The man they once called Star-Lord showed nothing. No shiver or flinch. He kneeled, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. Ronan wondered if it was survival or if he was truly broken, if he had anything left inside. He would find out soon enough.





	1. Chaper 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I’m just gonna shake it all up. Also, I’m ignoring all sorts of facts from Marvel. There’s too many different versions anyway so I’m just picking and choosing what I want….  
> And yeah, I know, this is a pretty taboo subject in this ship and I'll probably get lots of eye rolls, but I started thinking, “What if Ronan won?’  
> “What would happen after Xandar fell?”  
> “What if after gaining one power he wanted more and got it?”  
> Aaand then this developed and my mind went nuts.  
> This is just a small opening to the story, chapters will be longer.
> 
> First fic so constructive criticism is welcome. Unbeta'd

# The Stars Are Yours

The darkness pressed in on him, as it always did. The bleakness of it, his failure, mingled with the dark to taunt him. To punish him. The metal beneath him seemed like ice as he listened to the silence. There was nothing. No sound to distract him from thoughts. 

He heard bits of news randomly. Stories of Ronan’s exploits. How he traveled from place to place laying claim to rule or annihilating it. Even his own system, and the Kree Empire wasn’t spared. Through this conquering he had acquired more infinity stones. The Kree way of life was now the norm and Ronan stood above them all. 

He deserved this. He deserved to watch his friends’ faces fall in defeat night after night. He deserved to hear their muffled screams as he had so long ago sitting in the small cell next to their individual ones. He deserved to see Rockets charred and mangled body and he deserved to see the pieces of Groot scattered around him. He deserved that and everything his life was now. If he had been smart he would have gathered his friends and taken them far away. He wouldn’t have thrown them into a battle that wasn’t theirs, or his even. He would have protected them. 

Over the years his ‘owner’ had found pleasure in tormenting him with the details of their deaths as each came about. He had learned however that if you didn’t react, if you didn’t show the hurt, the game apparently lost its fun and ended quickly. If he stayed silent he was rarely bothered. There was no punishment from others if he stayed out of the way. So he kept to his corner in the shadows where his traitorous mind gave him all the punishment he deserved. 

*****

Ronan sat, half listening to the feeble blathering of the man before him. A half Xandarian. One he had shown leniency toward for his services that helped bring down that wretched planet. One that he had rewarded. A worm. A worm that sought only to save his own flesh, damning his own people. A worm that Ronan should have smashed long ago but stayed his hand. He regretted that now. He should have known that the foul blood running through his veins, no matter how diluted, would pollute and tarnish all that he did. 

Yes, he only half listened to the condemned man. Though he didn’t know it yet, judgment for his arrogance, his stupidity, had already been passed. He would not leave here today. His attention was no longer necessary. Now he was focused on the kneeling form behind the man. Head bowed, unmoving, like a stone statue. He was thinner than when he last saw him, his muscle long since deteriorated. His was hair longer, greasy and he no longer had his well-maintained facial hair. The rags he wore for clothing hung off his frame and Ronan wondered how this one survived in his slavery while the others, the stronger ones, did not. To add to his curiosity, they had been given to far more intelligent subordinates and _he_ , Ronan, had kept Gamora as his own. She was put down not long after he rid the universe of her adoptive father. She did not break to her new lifestyle easily and he had no time to do it properly. She was too skilled as an assassin to keep alive. So he had been, admittedly, surprised to see this one kneeling obediently behind Corin when he entered the receiving hall. The man they once called Star Lord showed nothing. No shiver or flinch. He kneeled, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. Ronan wondered if this was an act of survival or if he was truly broken, if he had anything left inside. If he was truly as empty as he appeared. Ronan was certain of one thing, either this creature was incredibly intelligent to understand so quickly his place and accept it without fight or he was incredibly weak to succumb and break so easily to the pitiful man he was given to. Ronan had already made his decision and he would find out soon enough.

He brought his violet gaze back to Corin still waggling his useless tongue to create excuses not worthy of his ears. 

“Enough.” 

The mouth snapped shut instantly. 

Ronan stood. “You have wandered from planet to planet gaining privileges and treasures not owed to you by using my name as a shield. Thrown your alliance with me against others to collect from them. You have sullied my name. All of this after I let you live despite the filth in your blood.”

He slowly descended the steps as he spoke. “I rule with tedious balance. I have created a peace within the universe as its ruler which you threaten to disassemble by the fear you ignite as you use me to threaten your way into gaining your desires. That fear has them desperate. Your arrogance in this has led some to think they must stand against me. ”

He came to a halt in front of the now pale man. “This cannot be.”

He waved his hand and two Sakaaran guards immediately came forward, taking hold of him and dragging him back to lock his head in place. It had been too long since he added to the pool of Xandarian blood. There were so few left now. What was left kept themselves hidden well. He relished in the sudden panicked screams filling his hall. They were the pleading of the guilty, the cries of coming justice, and the terror of his rule. He savored the punishment of the condemned. An old lifetime blended with the new now. Ruler blended with Accuser. He was the Accuser, yes, but for Xandarians he was also the executioner. His mouth curled upward with pleasure and his gaze snapped down to the still kneeling Quill who still had yet to show any outward understanding of the situation. He dropped to his haunches and turned the slave to face his master. He put up no resistance, simply allowed his body to be manipulated. 

From behind him Ronan took hold of his jaw and forced Quills head up, rumbling in his ear, “Look at your master.” Dull blue eyes rose and lingered on the still screaming man. “Do you wish to witness the punishment of the man that has so efficiently turned you into this broken form? That has reduced you to the pathetic thing you are now?”

His grin widened with the silent answer. The pale throat worked beneath his hand as he swallowed. The heavy lids closed slowly. An ever so slight turn of his head, down and to the side, as much as Ronans hold allowed. He asked for mercy with the gesture, to spare him the sight of the execution. And in such a submissive manner that had Ronan’s skin tingling beneath his armor. 

Excitement stirred within him and he dropped his voice for only Quill to hear. “So you are not fully broken. Simply hidden beneath a shield of defeat.” One finger left the group still holding his jaw to brush against the smooth cheekbone. The Kree cocked his head to the side. “You still feel,” he murmured with satisfaction. 

Ronan released him and stood. Circling to stand before him he said, “You are more intelligent than I gave you credit for and have a stronger will than I imagined. Strangely, this pleases me.”

He turned and raised his cosmi-rod, walking to his victim. “Take him to my chambers. See that he bathes, dresses and is fed.” He watched as his guards pulled Quill up from either side of him and started for the heavy doors. “Do not allow him to stray from my rooms until I arrive.”

As the doors closed, he dropped his eyes to the whimpering man.

“Please,” he begged, snot and tears running down his trembling face. 

Ronan grinned again, teeth bared, his face contorting into manic fierceness as he raised his hammer and brought it down, crushing the skull to pieces beneath the flesh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Real life got in the way. For the most part the story is complete, I've just been editing chapters for the future. It actually has been taking longer than I thought it would. 
> 
> I'm really not happy with this chapter and the next but I just cant find that something that will make it smooth and less eye-rolly. I'm still learning and trying to get into the groove so please let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Ronan advanced on the guards standing before his chambers hours later. The dark halls of the Dark Aster hummed around him. He was tired but unusually enlivened. It had been a brash decision to keep the slave and brashness was unlike him. There was something in the Terran that excited him, a rare thing for Ronan these days. It was so out of place for the mouthy, arrogant boy to simply kneel and submit all while he still had hold of his mind. He wasn’t broken, only cracked on the surface. He still cared enough about living that he didn’t fight his fate. Had he been truly gone and shattered no doubt Ronan would have snapped his neck then and there. Instead, Quill willingly yielded. 

“Supreme Leader,” A guard stepped forward as approached the doors. “He refuses to eat.”

He gave them a quick nod. “Return to your regular duties.”

He stepped through the doors and spied his quarry kneeling as he had in Ronan’s hall, beside the table near the fire. Ronan proceeded slowly forward, stopping to lightly draw a finger around the rim of the bowl of broth and finely shredded meat that sat untouched. He pulled a chair from the table and sat, reclining with his hands folded across his stomach, legs spread and stretched in front of him with the tip of one boot almost touching the slave’s knee. He silently took in the now clean Quill. His pale skin had been scrubbed free of grime, the firelight flickering off it making it glow. His hair now hung softly, curling around his face and returned to its light brown without grease hiding its color. The emerald blue robe he’d been given wrapped around the thin shoulders and Ronan was pleased to see they suited him well. They bore his mark. Anyone who saw them would know that the person wearing them was untouchable. The boy was lucky to have caught Ronan’s interest. Though he was still stripped of his freedom, he now held a higher status. He belonged and answered to Ronan alone. He had no doubt he would enjoy his new slave once, of course, the boy realized that Ronan was nothing like his former master.

“It is disrespectful to ignore food when it is given to you.” It was a statement but hint was obvious. He cocked his head to the side as Quill remained unresponsive. “I find it insulting.” And there is was, in the slightest twitch in the thin jaw, the posture just a fraction more rigid, small signs that others could not see but Ronan knew to look for. Defiance. It was hidden well but he had no doubt it was now running through every vein in Quills body.

He grinned. Wonderful. 

He sat up slowly and leaned forward. “I will make this easy for you to understand.” His hand shot out, fisting Quills hair and tilting his head up to face Ronan’s. “I am not that disgraceful excuse of a man that you once called Master.” The slave’s nostrils flared but his eyes remained down, silent. “You will eat now or I will bestow upon your body tortures that would have had him fleeing in terror with just the mere mention of them.” He flung the man back by his hair and watched as he landed half on his side. 

Before he had a chance to right himself Ronan told him, “Make your choice.”

Sluggishly Quill sat up coming back to his knees. Ronan could now hear the man breathing. Heavy gasps that he tried to control and hide. Something he had apparently become good at but, once again, not good enough to hide from him. 

Just as Ronan thought he would defy him, Quill reached up and carefully took the bowl from the table. He waited until his slave brought the bowl to his lips with shaking hands to take a tentative sip of the now cold broth to speak.

“The Kree treat their subordinates with a great deal of care, unless they are disobedient or greatly overstep their boundaries as was the case with your former Master. Slaves are handled in much of the same manner. They are well kept.” 

Ronan eased back to his relaxed position, eyeing Quill as he spoke. “You would do well to remember two things. The first, do not challenge me. You will lose and your body will pay the price. The second, obey me in all things. I do not tolerate disobedience. Should you remember these things I will assure you are fed, clean, and know very little pain.”

He fell silent, observing the man while he ate. The barely seen fidgeting told Ronan that he was not used to silent scrutiny. He was uncomfortable, nervous. As the silence continued the fidgeting became more pronounced. It was the most emotion Ronan had seen from him yet. It was apparent that Quill was used to very little attention unless it involved action as well. 

As the man lowered the bowl for the last time Ronan asked, “What manner of slave were you to Corin?”

Thin shoulders rose and fell quickly and Ronan sneered, “I require your voice.”

Quill stiffened, lips pursed just a hair and he inhaled deeply. Either he was not permitted to speak in the past or silence was how he kept himself alive. Ronan remembered the cheekiness of that mouth. Had he tamed it or had he simply not used it to keep his submission intact?

Slowly he exhaled and in a quiet voice, raspy from disuse, answered, “I don’t know.”

Ronan hummed. “Did he have you perform tasks for him?”

Quill still holding the empty bowl again shrugged lightly but, Ronan was pleased to find, this time knew to answer vocally. “Told me to bring him stuff sometimes,” he mumbled. 

“Is that all?” Ronan questioned.

“I guess so.” His fingers flexed on the bowl. He was fidgeting again. The small movements were telling. Ronan could see the thoughts fliting back and forth through clear, calculating eyes. It was as though the boy had more to say but remained quiet. 

He stood and walked to the fire gazing in the flames while watching Quill from the corner of his eye. “You are withholding something. I do not like half-truths.”

He turned to face Quill fully, waiting.

The man’s face reddened and hardened. Ronan knew he was fighting an inner battle. 

“He… he pushed me around some.” 

Ah, so shame was still present and a leading emotion in the slave’s reactions. Ronan waited for him to elaborate. It must have been a humiliating admission for a man like Quill but Ronan wanted more. His impatience grew and he and let it be seen. Quill licked his lips. “I don’t know, I think I was his punching bag or something.”

Ronan remained silent, watching. Quills nostrils flared and his hands bunched and fisted the material of his robe where is rested against his knees. The longer Ronan silently stared the more distinct the movements became. The man seemed to be unraveling. The question of Quills lack of speaking answered. He had kept his mouth shut of his own accord. He didn’t speak so his lack of control wouldn’t lead him to punishment. The more he used his voice the more he moved, his body gesturing with his words. 

“Ok, ok. He’d come back at night and beat the crap out of me for one reason or another if he was in a bad mood. Then he’d be gone in the morning. I’d just sit there until he got back. That’s it.”

Ronan nodded and turned back to the fire. Pride. He also held his pride and it was one of the sources of his struggle. “So he never assigned you to any duty. Never had you clean or cook or in any other manner attend to him?”

“No.”

He shifted his head to look at Quill wanting to see the slave’s reaction.

“Did he take you to his bed?”

Quills head snapped up and for the first time looked him in the eye. His face wary and his blue eyes wide, he slowly shook his head.

“No.” It was quiet, almost questioning. Ronan grinned. 

“And have you ever been in a man’s bed?” He rumbled.

“Why?” Quill was smart, that was obvious. He knew to be guarded but in doing so he didn’t realize how much he gave away. 

Ronan growled but kept his voice neutral, “You dare question me when I demand an answer?”

Quell shook his head quickly, eyes lowered to his hands now bunched in his lap around the bowl. “No. No… I…. Just no.”

“No, what?”

“No, I wasn’t questioning you and no to… the other thing.” 

Ronan nodded and made his way to stand in front of him. He looked down at the brown curls as he spoke. “Your pride will ultimately be your downfall. However, remarkably it was your pride, your intelligence, which has kept you alive this long and in so doing you have now gained yourself a life of relative ease. Your pride, stubbornness, and silence will not help you here. Only your submission is required with me. You will know structure and with that a peace so long as you submit and understand you have no control over anything. You are mine now.” 

He took a step back. “Stand and remove my armor.”

Quill stood, his shoulders slightly hunched. Silence firmly settled back in place but his jaw was clenched and his face drawn. Ronan could see the slight tremble in his frame as he set the bowl on the table. He knew his place before, however chaotic the routine was. Now? Now he knew nothing. He had to start from scratch and Ronan knew he held a fear of it. He knew his slaves mind was turning, over thinking every move he made, two steps ahead of his actions, looking for what results would come from each movement. It would take time to rid him of this. It would take time to make him understand that all he needed to do was obey. 

Quill paused in front of him, eyeing each piece. He wet his lips and his fists clenched and unclenched on each side. Frustration poured off of him and Ronan knew his plight but remained silent. He waited to see what the boy would do about it. Would he keep his stubborn silence and risk punishment for not following an order or if he would swallow just a bit of his pride and ask how the armor was removed. 

Intelligence overruled and his shoulders dropped. Through gritted teeth he asked, “How does it come off?”

Approval raced through Ronan and he smirked. “Shoulder pieces first then the head piece. Under the curve of that are clasps. The rest is easy enough.”

Thin arms reached up to take hold of the first shoulder plate, hesitating for just a moment before his fingers wrapped around it and slid it out and off. 

He paused holding the piece, his frustration still evident. “Where do they go?”

Ronan gestured to several hooks hanging through an open door across the room. In the darkness, the four brilliant colored gems imbedded in the universal weapon shone brightly, casting a glow through the room. He saw the slave’s eyes land on it.

“Should you try to use it, it will send a charge through your body that will lay you flat for several hours, twisting in agony.” 

The boy looked up at him, eyes assessing, as if to gage whether Ronan was merely trying to install fear or if there was truth behind his words. 

Ronan grinned and opened his hands, gesturing. “By all means then.” He waved to the weapon. “But know that after it has finished punishing you, you will face mine.”

Quill shuddered and wisely chose to drop the look in his eye. He turned and made to hang the piece of armor in his hands. Ronan watched his form as he walked and spied several things at once. His slave favored his right side and limped on his left leg. He held his left arm close to that side. After three years with that fool Ronan was surprised the man was even capable of function. It was insulting to find that his gift was so misused. The Kree took pride in everything they owned. And preserved it until it could no longer be preserved and had to be done away with. It was distasteful to be given something as valuable as a personal slave, especially one given by him, just to let it rot. In the case of this one’s companions, well, they were faulty, unable to be trained. He understood the reason they did not survive. They did not prove useful, they were unable to be preserved and so they had to be put down. But this one, this one did and for all his will to survive, he was mishandled. Not allowed to reach his true capabilities, of no use but abuse. 

When Quill returned and continued his work Ronan spoke quietly. “I have informed the servants they are no longer responsible for my rooms. That now falls to you. They will come twice a day to collect and drop off anything needed. You will make sure the rooms are cleaned, the linens on my bed, in my bath and my clothing are sent to the launders. You will order coal brought for the fires in each room of my chambers when they are low and tend them so that they do not die. I like order and you will keep it in these rooms.”

His other shoulder piece was off, put away and his slave now reached for his head piece. He dipped his head slightly so the shorter man could pull it off and continued. “Most days your duties will remain here however, some days I will require you with me. I train once a week. You will go with me and provide your services as needed. This is the same when we must leave the Dark Aster during political events. Other times I will demand your presence in my hall and in any case, while you are out of these rooms, you will hold yourself tactfully in your station. Do not overestimate your boundaries for the punishment in doing so will be much more severe than it would be in the privacy of my chambers. It will be swift, hard, and public. Remember that.”

Quill unclasped his chest piece and staggered under its weight. He tried covering the pained grimace as it added pressure to his hidden injuries.

“I take my morning meal here. My priests will aid in my dressing and while it is being done the servants will fill the meal bar. When I return you will serve me. While I am gone during the day you will do your duties as needed. When I return for the night, you will drop whatever task you are doing and start the water for my bath. As it fills you will return to me and remove my armor and underclothes. Once completed, _you_ will bathe me, dry me, and turn down my bed. Should I need anything further I will inform you. ”

The brunette returned from hanging his chest piece and Ronan reached out and took hold of the younger mans chin. He felt the muscles tense beneath his fingers. Tilting it up he said, “I understand you had no training before this so I will assist you in learning your duties for a short time. After that time, you will be responsible for knowing what is expected and performing efficiently.”

He leaned the head further back. “Look at me.”

Guarded blue eyes met his. “You defied, challenged, and fought me in the past. Do not think to do so again and you will have no worries. Is any of this in some way unclear?”

The head in his hand shook his reply and Ronan’s brows rose. Quill corrected himself almost instantly. 

“No.”

Ronan released his slave. “Good. Finish this then go prepare my bath.”

Piece by piece Quill removed his armor and underclothes. There was a brief hesitation before his leather pants were removed and he grinned as Quill turned his head to the side and reddened. His modesty amused Ronan. If the stories were true this man had been quite skilled with his female lovers. He had been open to exploration and it surprised Ronan to find he had not explored his own sex. He was even more surprised that Corin had not thought to use him for that purpose. What good was a slave if it did not meet your needs? All of them. But then, the imbecile had not been smart enough to utilize the slave in any manner.

He sent Quill away to draw his bath. Standing naked in front of the fire, he listened to the water run in the adjoining room. He contemplated where he would put his slave for the night. Should he allow him in his bed? The boy would eventually spend a good deal of time there so why stall it? Or should he have him make a small pallet to call his own? Gamora had spent most of her captivity in chains. She could never be fully trusted and the personal slaves he’d kept in the past had slept in the very small room across from his chambers and only visited his bed, if they were pleasing to the eye, when he required it. Quill however, was different. That was apparent instantly. He… fascinated Ronan. He enjoyed watching the man and admittedly he had thought his slave attractive during the quest for the first infinity stone. He had found his will and strength of mind captivating even then. More so now that the man had managed to survive. So why should he deny himself the pleasure of having him at arm’s reach? Quill lacked the strength needed to truly harm him and he doubted the man would even try. He accepted his place and if he hadn’t killed Corin he wouldn’t dare try with him. Quill was smart. Ronan knew that he understood what would happen should he try. Undeniably, it would also be interesting to see his slave’s reaction to sleeping in such close proximity to him. 

He had given Quill more than enough time to prepare so he turned and made his way to his bathing room. He entered and watched his slave for a few moments. The brunette stood unaware of his presence, absently twisting his hands, barely hiding a worried expression.

“You are unsure of something.” 

Quill startled and turned so swiftly that he almost lost his balance. Once he rightened himself, red stained his cheeks once more as he took in Ronan’s nakedness. His head dropped, eyes averted. “No!” He shook his head, curls swaying with the movement and then paused. “Well, I mean yes. Yes. See, those people, when they washed me, they put some oils and stuff in the water and I was just wondering if you used them and if so well, I can’t find them now.”

Ronan was mildly surprised Quill had even thought to consider that he might. But then it also made complete sense. Thinking two steps ahead helped avoid punishment and he was positive that Quill hadn’t just thought two steps ahead in this. More like a sequence of events occurring if he’d done something wrong. He approached and stepped up and into the large pool, answering as he did.

“No, I do not use oils.” He turned and presented Quill with his back. “Start with my back, then I will sit and you will go from my head down.”

“Be thorough,” he said at the first tentative touch of the sponge. Quills work was quick and indeed thorough but Ronan could feel the uncertain, hesitating shake of his hand as it brushed along his back. It was new and possibly, for a man such as Quill despite slavery, demeaning but his slave would grow accustomed to his new life and so he told him. 

“Once you are familiarized with your life as my slave you will be more at ease with your duties to me.” The sponge ran quickly over his buttocks. “You have done remarkably well this far. I did not expect this magnitude of ease.”

Fabric rustled behind him as Quill dipped to wash the back if his legs. He felt the man step back behind him and Ronan turned and eased his body into the water.

“Though Corin was a fool, he did effectively condition you to this lifestyle. You merely lack proper training.” Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back so Quill could begin removing the paint from his face which was done slowly and carefully. The sponge dipped to his neck then chest before taking a suspiciously long time on his abdomen. The hand paused, lifted, and then returned before it left again. He waited a few moments before his eyes opened to take in his slave. The brunette’s breath came out in silent, harsh puffs. One hand crushed the sponge dribbling water in his lap while the other twisted in his robes. Quill stared with an armored look at the floor. 

“You are not finished.”

His eyes closed briefly and when he opened them he looked to Ronan with brows furrowed, his blue orbs pleading. 

Ronan kept his face impassive. Normally a slave would be on the floor bleeding in retribution for such defiance. There was something about this one, however, that made him pause. This was not like his initial act of rebelliousness when he’d entered his chambers. He was testing the waters then and had caught on quickly. 

This was different. This was more the act of someone diving into unknown waters. Anxiousness, fear. The boy didn’t know how to proceed. It was odd. Ronan was patient, calculating but he expected his servants to do as they were bid or be punished. This time he found he enjoyed the hesitancy. This man wasn’t habituated from an early age but brought to his knees after living a free life and his mind wasn’t broken. He held enough of it to know pride, embarrassment, anger. He again marveled how unusual it was for someone like Quill to make it this far and it intrigued Ronan which is why the man wasn’t bleeding. Yet.

He held his hand out and with a look of relief, Quill mistakenly made to hand him the sponge. With quick reflexes he grabbed his wrist, ignoring the cringe and flinch and pulled the man closer. There was only a minimal tug as he brought the hand holding the sponge down to his groin but it was stopped swiftly with a warning jerk. 

“I promised to guide you in your duties in the beginning and so I will. You are a man and you have seen everything before. You have touched the same parts on your own body. Mine is no different. Don’t think, simply do.”

Quill eyes were tightly scrunched and his head turned to the side as Ronan guided his hand. He made sure to take his time, going over everything twice before he released the thin wrist. 

“Finish.”

His slave exhaled and jerked his hand to Ronan’s thigh to continue his task. There was something about Quill that stirred Ronan. This new personality appealed to him. He was almost, for lack of better words, sweet. As sweet as someone like Quill could be. Without the arrogant mouth and over-confident attitude it was easy to see. At least for Ronan it was. He knew others would see a broken or insolent slave, depending on who observed him. One moment he kneeled with a blankness that had the air of someone damaged and no longer aware and Ronan wondered where he went during that time that so easily allowed him to escape his surroundings. The next he fought his sensibilities to keep his mind intact, sensibilities that Ronan found enticing. He wanted to explore those. During those times he knew they could be taken as rebelliousness and Quill should count himself lucky that Ronan had such a keen eye. 

Unfortunately, he had no space in his life for something sweet. His purpose from this point on was to serve Ronan, despite his reservations. Quill would learn or he would meet the same fate as his friends. 

He was brought from his musings as Quill leaned across him to reach for his other leg, the scent from the oils he'd mentioned earlier reaching him. They were warm and airy, just as refreshing as his new slave.

"You said that you were washed."

Quill paused briefly. "Yeah."

The servant or servants that did so would be corrected. "You will bathe yourself in the future. Let no others touch you unless I permit it."

Ronan watched the top of Quills head quietly for several moments. "You will ask what oils they used and continue to use them. They suit you."

When Quill sat back indicating that he was through Ronan waved his hand, "Go prepare my bed then return to me." 

Ronan watched Quill stand and walk slowly from the bathing room. It was obvious the small amount of work he’d done was catching up to his injuries but he didn’t complain. He could hear doors softly opening and closing from the inner chamber as Quill searched out the room he needed. At last a door opened and did not shut and within a matter of minutes he was back, nervously fumbling as he picked up a sheet to dry Ronan with uncertainty.

Instead of standing, he motioned for Quill to come closer and kneel. He lifted his wet hand and lightly grasped the man’s neck, his thumb and index on either side of his jaw. He shifted the head from side to side fully inspecting him. He liked the longer hair, it framed his face with the slight curls and waves. It went well with his large eyes. As Ronan turned the head to the left he discovered a thick, still pink scar starting between his eye and hairline just above his ear that disappeared into the light brown locks. Looking closer he noticed for the first time that eye was different than the other. Hidden amongst the stress induced bloodshot strain were darker red veins indicating damage. Releasing the jaw, he placed a finger at the start of the scar. 

“How did you get this?”

Quill shifted. “He threw something at me. I don’t remember much of that day.”

Ronan hummed, irritated at the scar marring Quills face. He regretted giving him to Corin but at the time he thought Gamora better suited to serve him. He had thought Quill just as physically appealing but believed he would be the more difficult to train. She had been accustomed to his lifestyle and should have known what was expected. Had he known Quill could be conditioned so easily he would have chosen him for himself. It would have been a far better choice. Instead he handed him to Corin who didn’t know the prize he had been given. It was good Ronan did away with the man before he ruined the slave further. 

He drug his finger to the eyebrow above Quills eye, tracing it.

“Can you still see from this one?”

“Some,” his slave murmured quietly.

“Elaborate.”

Quill sighed lightly and his shoulders dropped. “It’s distorted and blurry. Colors are dull.” There was a short pause. “Don’t hear out of that ear very well either.”

Ronan hummed again and trailed his finger down the high cheek bone and nose, to run across the smooth hairless jaw. Ronan guessed that Corin had used a halting cream on it so he would not have to worry about a razor within reach of the slave. This he approved of. Not because he thought he could not handle it should his slave try to use a razor against him but because he preferred those he took to his bed be soft and smooth. This thought made his eyes drop to the clothed body knowing that beneath the robes he would be sharp and boney from lack of proper food. 

His hand dipped to the ‘v’ of his slaves robe and a grasped the first button, unclasping it. Quill jerked back with the motion. Sharp, panicked eyes met his and his breath quickened. 

“Calm yourself,” he rumbled as he moved to the second button and repeated the same action.

Quills head shook and his hands moved to the floor to support him as he tried to shift away. 

“I can’t do this.” He blurted, his voice quick and raspy.

Ronan bunched the fabric of the robe in his fist and pulled the man back into positon easily. Perhaps asking about any sexual nature between men in his past had been in error. 

“You’re doing nothing but kneeling as I ordered. Continue to kneel or risk punishment for ignoring a direct command.”

A fine tremor rippled beneath Quills skin and each inhale of breath came as a quiet gasp and as Ronan released the fabric to continue to the next button he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head, lips thinned. It was obvious to Ronan that he tried to find that place he went during those times of blankness Ronan had observed. It was also obvious that he was failing.

He undid the buttons, one by one, stopping before he reached the slaves lap. He reached out and brushed the robe from each shoulder and leaned back to observe Quill with the fabric pooled softly around his waist.

Ronan noted that he had been right before. The muscle the man once had was deteriorated. He was thinner than Ronan had imagined, his skin clinging to his bones in sharp angles. His ribs were easily visible and the heaving gasps of his panicked slave only made the flesh stretch in obscene manner. This would not do. He absently took note to have his healers and cooks put him on a strict diet regime. He didn’t want his slave as plump as before but he wanted him healthy.

His hand moved to one of the sources of Quills pain and felt along the black and purple skin over his ribs ignoring the flinch as he pushed beneath his arm to access it. Two broken ribs and another more than likely cracked. A deep gash towards the back of the bruising seemed to be on the verge of infection and from the look of the area he surmised Quill had learned to hide pain far better than he had previously imagined. The slightest movement would be like torture. It would need treated and wrapped but it could wait until morning. He eyed the various scars along the man’s torso, some older than his slavery, others fresh. 

He fingered the cloth bunched around his slave’s waist and hips.

Flicking it lightly he ordered, “Stand and remove this.”

Quills head snapped around and his face went pale. Once again Ronan was left to wait patiently for his slave to work through logic, see reason and do as he was told. This time, however, Quill slowly, with wide eyes began to shake his head. Ronan’s brows rose.

Quill fell back and started inching backward his alarmed gaze never leaving Ronan’s.

“I can’t,” he repeated. “No. I w-won’t.” His back hit the wall.

It may have been motivated by fear but this was without question a solid refusal. Ronan decided now was as good a time as any to demonstrate the effects of disobedience. Something light as Ronan doubted the boy could handle very much in his current state, but something that would make him understand. Something he could look back on and remember the next time he refused an order. He stood and stepped from the large tub causing Quill to scramble to his feet against the wall only to hunch over as much as he could when Ronan came to tower over him. He fisted the man’s hair and jerked his head back. One pale hand came up to encircle his wrist while the other stayed scrunched at his waist holding the robe up. 

He gave Quill a slight shake, “You defy me?” This was his one and only warning. Quill was new to this training so Ronan thought it fair to give him the chance to retract and correct his mistake. He didn’t take it.

The man shook beneath his hand. “Please… I can’t do it.” Ronan almost paused. It was surreal seeing this man shaking in fear. Not the man that had more courage than sense. Almost.

Ronan turned, dragging Quill behind him, to the main room. The man struggled feebly, his feet dragging and then stumbling forward as to not fall. Ronan continued to the far corner. The corner Gamora was often held. He grasped the first hanging cuff and latched it to the wrist of the hand still clutching his tightly. He pulled the end of the attached chain and Quills arm rose. The slave gasped and reached to grab the cuff. Ronan took the opportunity to do the same to the other wrist. He pulled until Quills arms were stretched above his head but his feet were still firmly on the ground. Ronan took hold of the loose robe and ripped it from Quills hips, buttons scattering across the floor. 

He stood back and watched as Quill pulled at the chains and panted, his chest heaving, cringing at the sharp spikes of pain Ronan knew were shooting through his chest overextended as it was. 

“Be still!” His slave froze and his eyes snapped to Ronan, his expression wild with fear.

His whole body flinched as Ronan dropped to his haunches to inspect the leg he had spied limping earlier. There was no wound but a light scar and an odd angle to the bone under his knee. It must have been broken at one point early in his slavery and never set to heal properly. As there was no immediate need for attention Ronan decided to put off the question of how it happened until later. 

He stood and cupped the cringing man’s cheek, speaking softly. “I know the thoughts that you came to at my order. Let me assure you that had you done as you were bid you would be sleeping comfortably and untouched.”

Ronan stepped back and grasped the hanging chain next to Quill. “You will learn two lessons this night. The first, never try to guess my intentions. The second, as I told you earlier, never defy me. It would be wise for you to take this time to think of the actions that led you here and understand that I am taking you injuries into consideration. This is trivial compared to what will come once you’ve healed and you refuse an order.”

With that he pulled the chain. Quill cried out sharply as his body was lifted until his toes barely touched the ground. Ronan backed up and watched as his slave, with his head thrown back, tried to control the pain no doubt radiating through his chest. He would be able to hold his weight and relieve the pressure slightly before his toes gave out and he’d be forced to let his body hang, stretching his torso and pulling on the damaged ribs. Ronan made sure to evaluate his breathing so he could be confidant the strained broken bones weren’t puncturing anything. He nodded when he saw no difficulties and turned to his bedroom, confident that the stretch on his broken ribs would be enough punishment this time. As weak as his body was, it would not tolerate the pain long. By morning, if not sooner, the agony would have him cracking and begging to be released.

*********

Just as Ronan predicted, he was woken just a few short hours later to the sound of his slave crying out brokenly between sobs. 

“Oh, God… please!”

He rose and went to the open door. Quill must have spotted the violet of his eyes in the dark as his begging was shifted in his direction. 

“Please,” he sobbed with a hitching voice. “Please. I’m sorry. I-I was wrong.”

Ronan nodded, “I’m glad you’ve seen your error. However, your punishment will not end till morning.”

He made to go back to bed but the chains attached to his slave rattled sharply and he wailed out, “No! God no, please! I w-won’t do it again. I-I’ll listen. Please, I’m s-sorry!”

Ronan hissed, “Quiet! You will be silent and not wake me again or you will hang there all of tomorrow as well.”

Quills head slumped and he wept silently. The fool only caused himself more pain with the effort of his tears but Ronan simply turned and shut the door separating them. Satisfied that Quill would now know that Ronan would not tolerate disobedience, he went back to his bed. He was not woken again that night.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

His slave screamed beautifully as he landed in a heap on the floor, jarring his agonized ribs. So beautifully Ronan wondered if he should have punished him in the manner he would have with other disobedient slaves just so he could have heard more of the sweet cries. Unfortunately he doubted the weakened body would have survived it. After his inspection yesterday he determined the man wouldn’t have lasted long if the treatment he had been subject to continued. His body would have given out from either lack of a proper diet or the abuse it received. If he wished to keep him Ronan would have to carefully tend the body back to health. It was also unfortunate that by the time Quill achieved that state he would probably need corrected very little, having learned while healing. 

His focus was drawn back to his slave huddled on the floor by a moan.

“You have till I return from dressing to compose yourself.”

He stepped into his dressing chamber where his priests where waiting. As he was dressed and the paint was applied he heard the meal bar being filled through the door. He knew the servants wouldn’t dare look upon the huddled form of his slave. They had grown accustom to seeing Gamora in that corner, though she usually remained in the chains with enough slack to allow some movement. Quill was new but the scene was not. 

When he returned he found his slave on his knees but bent over, one hand braced on the floor, the other wrapped around his chest and ribs. The bowed head left him unable to see his slaves face but every other breath was accompanied with a whimper. Ronan took pity on the boy and filled his own plate before seating himself at the table he’d occupied the night before.

“Come to me.” He pointed to the spot between his open thighs and waited as Quill, agonizingly slow, began to inch towards him, not bothering with standing and never even bringing his head up, just following his voice.

Once he was in place Ronan gently stroked the soft curls of the still bowed head. “Good,” he murmured.

He reached to the tray he had requested be brought with his morning meal and picked up a phial from it. 

He tilted his slaves head back and fingered the scrunched eyes. “Look at me.”

The eyes that looked to him were pooled with pain laced tears. “What did you learn last night?”

Quill swallowed and in a cracked whisper he replied without hesitation, “To-to not try and guess what y-you’re thinking. To not defy you.”

Ronan nodded, pleased. “Very good.” He brought the phial to his slave’s lips. “Drink this. It will not take the pain away entirely but it will make it easier to function for today.”

He tipped the liquid into the trembling mouth and watched as Quill swallowed, too tired to even grimace at what Ronan knew to be a foul taste. He reached out and traded the empty vial for the rolled wrap and jar of abrasion paste used to clean and treat wounds. He nudged his slaves shoulder. “Sit up and reach your arms above you high and straight.”

Quill struggled to lift his arms, the stretch during the night leaving the muscles weak. The movements were enough to overfill his pooled eyes, tears trailing down his cheeks, clinging to his lips. His slave looked so utterly broken, despair hanging off every breath but he still tried valiantly to do as he was bid. Ronan reached out and grasped the thin arms, pulling him into the desired position and ignoring the sharp cry.

With one hand around his slave’s wrists, he held him in place. With the other he dipped his fingers in the jar and leaned in to access Quills wound. The position opened the wound, making it gape obscenely. He frowned at the depth. Had he realized how deep it went he would have had it treated the night before. He would send a healer to tend to it later in the day. This would not heal properly with just infection preventatives but for now it would help.

“This will no doubt be painful.” 

Sure enough, seconds after the paste was spread in and across the wound his slave jerked in his hold. He threw his head back, emitting a low scream. The thin body shifted to the side in a weak attempted to break free.

“Be still and let it spread.”

Pleading eyes found his and he whimpered, “Please. I’m sorry!”

Ronan cocked his head to the side. “What are you sorry for?”

“I-I don’t know! Please. I swear, whatever it was I won’t do it again,” His slave half screamed. 

He chuckled darkly. Keeping hold of the wrists, he turned his feebly struggling slave and half draped him over his thigh, still kneeling, arms held down on one side of his leg, body on the other, and pushed his slaves head to rest just above his knee. 

“This is not punishment.” Quill let out a muffled sob into his knee, a pure and pleasing sound to Ronan. “Corin did not maintain you well. Given a few more days infection would have settled firmly in your wound and it would likely have claimed you.” He stroked the wet cheek. “This is repair.” 

“Relax. The medicine I gave you will take affect soon.”

He sat silently as the minutes ticked by and let his slave cry into his leg. As the tears dried, cries turning to small occasional sniffs and the bunched muscles of the boys back relaxed, he knew the medicine had begun to work. He waited a few minutes more before releasing the wrists to let limp arms dangle over his leg. He reached for the wrap and eased it around his medicated slave’s chest. There was only a slight flinch as he taped it in place. He sat back straight and turned his attention to the plate of food before him. He ate slowly watching his slave doze. The pain medication had taken a deeper affect than he anticipated. Whether it was either his weakened state or because he was Terran, Ronan didn’t know. He would speak to his healers and have them alter the dosage to fit his slave. 

With his own hunger sated he brought a morsel to the softly parted lips of his slave. 

“Open.”

Quill groggily opened heavy lids and looked to him quietly before working out that he was ordered to do something. His lips parted wider and Ronan pushed the food between them. 

His slave closed his eyes again and hummed in appreciation. Ronan’s brows rose. Yes, the medication would have to be adjusted. He observed Quill as he chewed. The boy’s face was relaxed and open. Vulnerable. Allowing Ronan to see all unshielded. 

He swallowed and opened his eyes, turning the blue orbs to Ronan lazily. The Kree took another bit of food and without hesitation his slave accepted it. He absently ran his free hand down Quills boney spine. Other than what he was given the night before, he had probably not had food in quite some time. He was quite happy to take what was offered this time. 

Bit by bit Ronan fed his slave. Each bite was taken without fight and after each swallow the boy looked up to him. The pain controller giving him false trust opened him to Ronan who shuddered with satisfaction. When his training was finished he would be just as relaxed and open as he was at this moment, without the aid of inhibitors. Every emotion and thought would be plain to see. He would not have to search for clues. Nothing would be hidden from him. He would not hesitate to follow any command, trusting Ronan fully as his master and provider. He would take any pleasure or pain Ronan chose to give him with the same soft accepting eyes. He would know what it truly meant to be a Kree’s slave.

When he determined Quill had eaten his fill Ronan jostled the limp body and motioned for him sit up. The boy looked up at him lazily through drooped lids. 

“You may rest for a short while until the healer arrives and the pain controller wears off. I expect you to start your duties today. By the time the healer leaves I have no doubt you will be able to perform efficiently. You will be allowed no excuses.”

With that he stood and walked around his sluggishly kneeling slave. By the time he reached the door his slave had already bowed his head to rest on Ronan’s vacated seat, mouth hung open and eyes shut, asleep.   
***********************************************

He returned later than he intended having added to his day’s agenda after speaking to his head healer to modify the care and healing of his slave. Cautery had to be used to heal the wound at his side which made recovery almost immediate. His ribs would heal in time and posed no threat. His eye and leg were beyond healing and the only solution to those would be cybernetics. Since neither seemed to cause debilitating pain nor disrupt Quills normal activity Ronan decided against it. Both would put the boy out of commission for some time and he disliked the idea of possibly altering his appearance. The only true concern was his weight. The lack of nutrients had severely weakened his slave. As he had guessed it would have only been a matter of months before his body gave out. He would be put on a special diet fitting his needs until the time he was deemed healthy again. 

He found his slave sitting in a dark corner, knees drawn to his chest, an empty plate that had held his evening meal next to him. His head jerked to Ronan as the door slid closed. Wariness poured off him as Ronan moved further into the room. The boy didn’t move, only watched. He was more alert and a touch of color had already returned to his flesh. 

When it became apparent that Quill wouldn’t move anytime soon Ronan said, “Heed the instructions I gave you of your nightly duties. I doubt you’ve forgotten them in the span of one day.”

Quill jerked but stood and slowly limped over, his torn robe clutched in his fists around his waist. 

“I don’t recall giving you leave to put that back on.”

Quill paused, a shiver spread across his frame. Ronan watched as he fingered the robe nervously. He guessed that his slave was remembering his punishment and was working through what was left of his pride and he waited patiently for him to make his decision. 

With stiff movements his fingers released the robe and let it fall to the floor at his feet, his blank gaze pointed somewhere over Ronan’s shoulder. 

Ronan nodded, “Good. After your performance last evening you will have to earn the right to be clothed in my presence. For now, you will only wear the robe should we leave these rooms. Now, start my bath then come attend me.”

Quill held his fisted hands in front of him shielding his groin from sight. Ronan smirked. He had never been timid or shy with his body. Most Kree warriors weren’t. There was no time to be modest during schooling and training. All that mattered was what you could do with your body, not what it looked like. He supposed since Quill was no warrior his reserve was acceptable and in a way, welcome. Most Kree slaves were accustom to the demands of their Masters. They held no shame or embarrassment, no stubborn pride. The only pride they knew was in pleasing their Master. They followed orders without delay, as they knew it was what their Master wanted and strove to fulfill that want. Quill was fresh and new to Ronan in every way. The excitement sent flashes of anticipation through him. 

It was, he admitted, an aggravation as well. Since he’d laid eyes on him the day before Ronan had felt all the thrill of a child with a new toy. This wouldn’t do. It was the gateway to attachment. He knew this, had seen it happen so many times. Fools stupidly clinging to subordinates who had them wrapped around their fingers, ultimately becoming their downfall. 

He was too well trained and far too intelligent to allow that. The boy was here for his convenience and his pleasure. It didn’t matter how meek, or amusing, or _sweet_ he was. All that mattered was obedience. In the end, obedience would be the only reason for keeping him alive.

This thought made him cock his head to the side as he watched his unmoving slave. 

“Perhaps you have forgotten and need another night hanging in chains to remember.”

Quill paled drastically and, tripping over the now forgotten robe, hurried to fill his Masters bath. When he returned there was no hesitation when he started on Ronan’s armor. 

With the painful gash healed and despite his broken ribs the boy worked quicker than the night before. He watched the pert bottom of his slave as each piece was taken to be put away. It was no longer full and round as he guessed it to be before his slavery but it was still acceptable. It was a shame the rest of his body was not. Ronan could find nothing attractive in the way his skin stretched across his bones but he knew soon enough he would have his slave back to a desirable form. 

Before long he was reclining in his bath. There was only a brief pause this time when it came time to run the sponge over his groin and he was pleased that Quill had learned so quickly. He was still stiff in his ministrations but that was to be expected. Over time Ronan knew Quill would relax in his station. He simply had to learn his new place. 

He stepped from the bath as his slave returned from preparing his bed and allowed himself to be dried.

“Did you remember to ask the servents what oils they used on you?” 

Quill, kneeling on the floor to dry his legs, stiffened and Ronan could read the answer in the boys panic filled eyes.

Ronan frowned but waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “A minor offence. I’ll show leniency this once but do not forget again.”

The slave’s shoulders slumped with relief and he continued his ministrations. As he stood to put away the bath sheet to be cleaned the next day Ronan told him, “Bathe yourself then meet me in my bed chamber. Be quick, you have ten minutes.”

He left Quill to do as he was bid and went to retrieve the newly altered pain medication he’d been given by his healers before entering his bedchambers. He sat on the edge of his bed waiting on his slave to come to him. It was evident that Quill had done his duties while he was away. Books in his sitting area were back where they belonged, the bed linens were crisp and neatly made and the coal boxes in each room were filled. 

He stared into the fire he ordered to always remain lit. It wasn’t for warmth, the ship controlled the climate. The fire pits in each room of his chambers were for his own leisure. It was one of the handful of comforts he allowed himself. He enjoyed them. The fierceness they had and at the same time the calming effect they gave. All his life he gave all he was to others. First to his parents, then avenging his families’ death, upholding the Kree law and justice. Now overseeing the galaxy as Krees should have always done. These chambers were for him alone. The fires were for his comfort and no one else. Nothing angered him more than walking in to find one had gone out. Years ago he had a slave that had stupidly allowed one to die. Her punishment was a hot coal held in her fist so that she would always remember to check the fires when she looked to the scar on her hand. After that she had proven herself an excellent slave. He had been disappointed when she died during an attack. 

Ronan was brought from his musings when his current slave entered holding his hands over his groin and looking unsure of himself. He gestured for Quill to stand before him. When he was in place Ronan grasped the thin wrists and pulled them to his sides. 

“Do not hide yourself from me. Your body is mine and I wish to see it.”

Ignoring the red face and stiffness of the body before him he turned Quill to inspect his healers work. The wound was sealed and red and he knew the scarring would be minimal. The bruising was still severe and would heal on its own with time and this was the reason Ronan held out the small phial of pain medication. 

“Take this. Your body requires rest to heal properly and this will give you a full eight hours of painless sleep. You may have a full dose at night but only half in the morning to ease your day.”

The boy lightly grasped what he was offered but instead of opening it he fingered the cap. His brows were drawn together and he seemed to be fighting an inner battle. 

“You may speak.”

Quill to a deep breath then winced at the pain it caused his ribs then quietly, with none of the brashness that Ronan remembered from the past and expected to hear, said, “I don’t understand.”

Ronan waited almost impatiently for him to continue and when he didn’t snapped, “What is there to not understand?”

Quills eyes snapped to the floor and his face reddened. “Well, just, last night you had me hanging like a piece of meat so long I thought I was going to die, then you have a doctor fix the cut on my back and now you’re giving me pain killers. I just don’t get it.”

When the boy finished his eyes half scrunched and he held his breath as if expecting punishment for his words. Ronan simply raised his brows and answered.

“You were not listening last night. The Kree maintain everything they own with great care. This includes slaves. Everything a Kree owns is useful and if you don’t care for it properly it will lose its usefulness. Punishment is a form of maintenance. You will always learn from punishment and therefor you will perform your duties better than before. Anything I inflict upon you will heal in time and you will never be punished without cause. Should your usefulness come to an end or prove yourself incapable of learning you will be given to someone of my choosing or you will be put down.” 

He reached up and took hold of Quills jaw, running his thumb across a thin cheek. “You should have no worries at the moment however. You have proven yourself useful and capable of learning. You are also quite fascinating. All of this secures your place.”

He released the boy and maneuvered himself further onto the bed, reclining on the pillows, another one of the few comforts he allowed himself. “Now, be quiet and take the medicine.”

He waited till the boy pulled the phial away from his lips before he gestured to the other side of the bed and said, “Lay down.”

Quill froze and his knuckles whitened around the phial. He stood staring at Ronan, anxiety pouring off him. Ronan waited a moment longer than normal before sitting up from his reclined position which caused his slave to stumble back and fall on his backside. 

“What lesson did you learn last night?” he snapped.

When he received nothing but a stare and he made to stand to give him a reminder and boy scrabbled back and blurt out, “Don’t guess what you’re thinking. Don’t defy you.”

Ronan paused. “Then heed that lesson and do as you were bid.”

Quill stood slowly, looking greener by the second and Ronan returned to his previous position on the bed. 

“Put that,” he pointed to the empty phial, “into the cabinet first.”

His slaved turned with jerky movements to do so before coming back and gingerly laying on the bed. He positioned himself on top of the covers as far from Ronan as possible. 

The lights dimmed automatically leaving the room in nothing but the firelight. Ronan sneered as he watched his slave lay there stiff as a board barely breathing. “I have no desire for your body in its current form. Ease yourself. Those duties will not come for a while.”

He then reached across and grasped Quills boney arm jerking him closer. “Take care to remember this: no other slave has been given leave to sleep in my bed. Do not make me regret this decision. You will pay dearly. Do you understand?”

The boy stared at him with wide eyes, nostrils flaring and quickly nodded his head.

Ronan released him and leaned back. “Go to sleep and do not disturb me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Nasty storms took out my internet twice and since then I've had nothing but troubles with it. I've had a new technician in once, sometimes twice a week for three weeks but it seems to be doing great now! Because it took so long I'm going to post two chapters this time.

CHAPTER 4

The boy did disturb him. Not in a manner directly defying him however. He had nightmares. Every night since that first night months ago. Ronan often found himself wondering what they were about. His former friends? His time with Corin? His life before all that? Or maybe all of it. Ronan wasn’t very annoyed. His slave wasn’t loud. Just small noises and whimpers, a bit of twitching in his sleep. He laid there much of the time and watched his slave during them. Quills face was always full of expression. Anxiety, sadness, guilt, fear. It was captivating. 

Ronan was amazed that the boy still held him in fascination. But then, the boy was still unlike any other slave he’d had in the past. Instead of kneeling quietly in a corner, eyes to the floor, waiting on a command his eyes followed Ronan’s every move. He watched and calculated his mood, rarely waited on a command, simply trusted his intuition, which was almost always right. He had needed no other punishment since the first and Ronan was both disappointed and pleased. He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy punishing his slaves. Their cries always sent wicked pleasure racing through him. But it was also pleasing to have a slave that required very little work. It was just as he’d thought, Corin had conditioned him well. Quill feared pain above all else at this point so he worked to avoid it. There was little to no hesitation in his duties any longer. He seemed to have fallen smoothly into his new life which Ronan had no doubt was more comfortable than his previous slavery. 

Despite the simplicity of Quills attitude after watching his slave he knew the submissive ease that was seen was a shield. The boy adapted to his surroundings to survive and while it was pleasing to have a low maintenance slave, he didn’t want half a slave. He wanted the boy whole. He was curious as to what lay beneath it. He still suspected, as he had the first time seeing him with his former Master, that the man he once was still lurked beneath, that the shield was his own mental block to keep his mind intact. Over the past months he’d watched his slave emerge only to sink back again. Ronan guessed it would take very little to push him back or bring him forth. He just had yet to discover how. The boy would either break fully or come forth and learn and it seemed at this point he was slowly learning. 

Quill had also learned the visual difference between Kree slaves and the others. The few slaves aboard his ship were well fed and neatly dressed. The slaves brought with non Kree guests to have counsel with Ronan were almost always filthy, thin, with untreated injuries, and wore little more than rags. Ronan had watched Quill take this in and compare the differences. He had explained later that being Ronan’s personal slave meant his life was better than even the Kree slaves. No other being was to interact with his slave without express permission and he had never given it to anyone in the past, nor would he with his current slave. His property was his alone. Being owned by Ronan meant he was cared for in a way the others weren’t, having access to Ronan’s own healers, given the same food Ronan was given, had finer clothes on his back, and, at Ronan’s discretion, allowed him to share the same living quarters as him. All in all, he had a much more comfortable and luxurious life than even some elevated Kree. Something he reminded him that could be taken away easily. 

Ronan showed more leniency with Quill as well. This was perplexing. It was not conductive to his training and it did very little to bring his slave out of hiding but he found himself being more lenient than he had ever been with one of his slaves. He allowed him to look directly at him but only when he realized this was how Quill was able to read his moods and act in properly servicing him to accommodate his mood. When he made a mistake Ronan found that the fear his slave openly showed stalled his hand in punishment and he gave him time to correct his mistake, which was always immediate. 

He shielded the boy, which was very unlike him. A few weeks prior a Xandarian was found and brought to him, as was the law. Ronan had almost forgotten his slave was with him that day and as he rose to do away with the filth he felt a hand tightly grasp his leg. Ronan could only assume it was terror that made his slave act so assertively so he had simply stared down at him as the boy quietly but desperately begged, “Please. Please let me leave first.”

Ronan had been tempted to force him to watch but knew he would see it as punishment and he would be set back in his training. Ronan did not punish the undeserving and while Quill had overstepped his boundaries he had done so out of desperation and immediately looked to Ronan to help him. This was acceptable. He was still unsure why he allowed it but he had growled for him to return to his chambers and start his duties immediately. Since then when Ronan decided to rid the galaxy of someone he sent his slave off first. He had no doubt his slave knew why he was ordered to leave. The boy was always timid and shaky when Ronan returned on those evenings.

Through all of this there were small barely noticeable changes in Quills demeanor. He worked quicker, hesitated very little and though he tried to hide it, he relaxed just a bit when he received praise. Every now and then Ronan would catch just the hint of yearning in Quills eyes when he knew he had done something right. A yearning for that praise. Though he tried to hide that as well, Ronan saw it. This meant his slave was finally beginning to understand and appreciate his position. He was learning to enjoy serving his Master as a slave should. The only thing holding him back from achieving it fully was the blank submissiveness that he used. He saw glimpses occasionally of the mind behind it. Defiance, curiosity, little things that tried to break free but were pushed back in an unconscious move of self-preservation.

Ronan had begun to notice the physical difference in his body as well. His ribs were healed and the bruising long forgotten. He had started to gain weight more rapidly. He was by no means back to a healthy weight but he was no longer skin and bones. With the return of his wellbeing came the desire. In the last week he’d watched his slave’s movements with a sharp eye and, unbelievably, had been restraining himself. His patience had worn thin and as he watched his slave watching him from across the fire as he usually was he knew he would wait no longer. Quill could obviously see the shift but had yet to place it and act accordingly. He fidgeted and struggled to understand the change hanging in the air. 

Ronan rose and walked to the bedchamber calling out, “Come,” as he went. He didn’t need to look back to know his slave followed obediently. 

He took a jar of oil from a cabinet on the far side of the room before sitting on the bed and pointing to the spot between his open legs. Wariness crept into the blue orbs but he knelt where he was directed. Ronan placed the jar next to him and reached out to draw a finger down his slaves’ cheeks. Quill would not enjoy this night. Ronan already knew this. Ronan was a highly skilled bed partner and could easily manipulate Quills body to release multiple times throughout the night but this was not what Ronan wanted. Tonight he wanted to see his slaves’ pain, wanted him to know that his body was at Ronan’s disposal. To accept it. 

“Do your ribs still pain you?”

Quill shook his head as he answered. “Not really. Just little twinges sometimes.”

Ronan hummed. “Good.”

He took hold of the jar and opened it. Grasping one of Quills hands he dipped the fingers into the oil ordering him to, “Spread it over your hand.” 

The wariness began to grow and Ronan saw the moment understanding hit when he brought Quills oil covered hand to his soft member. His face blanched and he lurched his hand back. Ronan tightened his grip painfully and forced it back onto and around his cock. Quill tried to lift from his knees to achieve leverage but with his free hand Ronan shot out, fisting the boy’s curls and forcing his head back and body down at the same time. 

“Be lucky I’m allowing you to use your hand boy. Continue to resist and I will strap your mouth open and use it instead.” He snarled, his voice leaking his aggravation.

He held Quill in that position as he began guiding his slave’s hand. The boy closed his eyes and Ronan jerked his head sharply until they reopened.

“Your eyes stay on mine or on your hand.”

His slave’s eyes dropped to his hand working Ronan’s shaft. His nostrils flared as it began to grow. Ronan was large by even Kree standards but to the much smaller Terran man kneeling in front of him he must have seemed massive in that moment.

Ronan continued guiding him till he was fully hard. Then, “When I release you, you will continue on your own. Do not falter, do not fight. You will regret it.”

He released his slave. The hand stroking him shook but continued. His mouth thinned and his eyes glazed. For the first time in months Ronan watched his slave retreat to that far off place he went to escape reality. Ronan allowed this for now. He relaxed and let himself feel the softness of his Terrans small hand that couldn’t fully wrap around his cock. The timid hold moving over him sent a thrilling shiver through his heated body. 

He wanted to draw it out but wanted to feel his slave even more. He was fully hard, the tip already pearled with precum. There was no reason for him to not move along. There would be other nights to explore. 

He batted his slave’s hands from his body and reached down, grasping Quills upper arms. Ronan drew his slave up and onto the bed guiding him to lie on his stomach. He climbed on top so that his member rested heavily on Quills rounded globes. 

The boy, so deep in his distant place, didn’t realize until it was too late that he was being put into position. The moment he became aware his body twisted to the side and he pushed at Ronan’s wrists, only succeeding in having his own trapped in one large hand. He freed one leg from between Ronan’s knees and tried to kick but that too was hindered when Ronan pushed himself up Quills body further, stretching the freed leg to bend at the knee and pressing the thigh to his slave’s side with his own knee, opening him perfectly. 

The boy was pinned half on his stomach, half on his side and completely unable to shift away. Panic was once again covering his face as he strained his limbs to gain release. Ronan smoothed his free hand down his slave’s spine, petting him.

“Relax. This is the only time I will tell you. If you don’t heed my words you’ll only cause yourself more pain.”

He brought his member, still coated in oil, to Quills unprepared opening and the boys struggles increased almost to a savage level. The boy was tight and refused to open to him. He pushed several times before growling and releasing Quills wrists to pull his cheeks even further apart. Just as Quill reached out to push himself away with his now freed hands Ronan pushed past the outer ring. His slave stiffened and his breath left him. His hands fisted in the sheets and a low groan tore its way through his throat as he tried to control the pain. 

Ronan watched the wide unblinking eyes and the lips caught between clenched teeth and shifted to wrap one arm under the boy’s stomach and the other to brace against his neck, pinning his head in place, allowing Ronan to watch his face. 

“Don’t fight the pain. Ride it out. Let me hear you.” As he lifted his slave with the arm under him he drove his full length into the boy, relishing in the drawn out scream that filled the room. Without waiting for him to adjust he pulled back and slammed into him again. There was no gentleness, he used his slave hard and fast spurred on by the hitching cries, the way he used one hand to push at the arm holding him up while the other stretched and pulled on the sheets trying to gain freedom. The way his head strained and pushed beneath the hand holding it firmly against the mattress trying to dislodge it. The way his legs kicked and twisted under Ronan. Over and over he pounded into him hard but mindful of the delicate Terran body. Each thrust caused the boys back to arch. Only when the fight drained from his body and the boy stilled and lay limp under him did he allow himself release. Only when Quills eyes became giant blue pools of tears, and the only sound coming from him was a sharp wheeze made with each breath did he spill his seed, deeply seated in his slave.

He remained in the boy watching the faint tremors course over the sweat dampened back beneath him, enjoying the warmth that still surrounded him in his afterglow. 

When the first glistening tear fell Ronan leaned down and drew his tongue along its path before bringing his mouth to his slave’s ear.

“Next time you will know pleasure.” With that he eased his still softening member out of Quill and rolled off, stretching and arranging himself for sleep. His slave did not move and as Ronan drifted to sleep he listened to the soft almost silent sobs of his slave.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5  
The next morning Ronan rose and left Quill to sleep. He dressed as normal then called for the servants to assist him with his morning meal. Once finished he pulled the abrasion paste from the cabinet and reentered his bedchamber. Quill was still sleeping, curled in a tight ball, his back against the edge of the bed. He reached down and brushed a fingertip along his slave’s spine. The moment his slave woke and realized Ronan was behind him his body jerked as if to dash across the bed. With quick reflexes Ronan pinned him with one hand on the small of his back. As he climbed over and sat on the back of the struggling boys legs his slave turned to pleading.

“Don’t! I can’t do it again, please-”

“Quiet!” Ronan snapped.

Quill fell silent instantly and stilled. His breath came as gasps and Ronan knew he was on the verge of breaking again. 

He brought his hands up and slowly kneaded his slaves back starting at his shoulders and working down to the small of his back.

“Calm yourself. I will give you a few days rest before I take you again. I am merely checking to see if you are torn.” 

He shifted his hand to Quills backside and pulled his cheeks apart. His hole was red and swollen and as he suspected the boy was indeed torn. Small amounts of dried blood stuck to his skin and as he pulled wider to inspect closer one of the smaller tears reopened. His slave flinched but made no sound and Ronan reached over to open the jar of paste. He dipped his pointer in and coated it thoroughly before bringing his finger to Quills irritated opening. The body under him flinched again but he ignored it and rubbed slow circles around the pucker. 

“Relax.”

He eased his finger in and continued in a circular motion making sure to coat the inner walls evenly, going deeper with every full circle. As his finger dipped as far it would go he began searching for that little bundle that he knew would turn Quill into a quivering mass. When he brushed it for the first time his slave gasped and jerked in surprise. Ronan grinned and rubbed harder, pushing on it gently. The sandy head practically swiveled off its neck as Quill, wide eyed, sought his gaze. As his ministrations continued Quills eyes broke contact and rolled as a clipped groan tore itself from his throat. Ronan’s grin widened and he lifted the hand holding his slave in place to reach beneath him, grasping the hardening rod.

He did nothing more than hold him simply feeling the velvety skin stiffen in his palm. He leaned down to his moaning slave’s ear.

“As I said, you will know pleasure next time.” With that he gently pulled his finger free and lifted off Quill to stand next to the bed. 

His slave rolled onto his back, breathing heavily, to look at Ronan with an almost hidden look of confusion. 

“There is food still on the bar. Eat. Then take a bath. You may rest for the day if you wish.”

He turned and left Quill staring at his groin as if seeing it for the first time.

***************  
He allowed Quill longer than a few days. Not because he thought he hadn’t recovered but because it was amusing to watch the new changes. His slave had retreated back and once again fully behind his barriers. He was less vocal, nodding or shaking his head as a reply and only speaking when there was no other way to answer Ronan. Ronan was once again reminding him that he required a voice. 

Timidness also made a reappearance. He began sitting in the far, darkest corners waiting for a command whereas he had been slowly moving closer in the months since Ronan had acquired him. Where he was beginning to feel comfort and curiosity with his new Master, he once again knew fear. He was slower doing the tasks that directly involved Ronan. He shook each time he helped bathe him and flinched when Ronan moved too quickly. But he still stared. Much more intently now. And just because it was entertaining to watch, he stared back. He could see this put Quill on edge as he rarely paid attention to his slave outside of their morning and evening routines. Even when he had Quill at his side during the day he, for the most part, ignored him. The returned scrutiny drained the boy and by the time he ordered his reluctant slave to sleep each night the blue orbs were bloodshot with strain and Ronan could see the lethargy hanging in his muscles that he had constantly bunched so he could spring up and away at any given moment. 

He enjoyed playing with his slave. Going so far as to stand in the doorway as his boy bathed himself. He did nothing but stand there but when Quill stepped from the tub and Ronan made to turn and leave he stumbled at Ronan’s movement, fell and landed with his cheek cracking against the tub. He couldn’t hold in the chuckle. 

He had to refrain himself from taking the boy as he had the other night. The problem with having a Terran slave was they were too fragile. He had been easy on his slave. He could have been fiercer and gone on much, much longer. Continuous treatment like last time would eventually severely damage or even kill his slave. And he wanted to keep this one. He knew he had done exactly what he swore not to do. He had developed a fondness for him. Oh, he wouldn’t hesitate to punish his slave but perhaps he would be less harsh. He also would not falter if the time ever came that he needed to be put down. He would do it quicker however and as painless as possible. Yes, he liked this one. He had never had a slave that wasn’t born into oppression or one that had come from freedom to chains that didn’t break totally. And Quill was not completely broken, just frayed and chipped. His mind, though undoubtedly warped and thickly cocooned, was still intact. He captivated Ronan’s attention with his oddness. The way he feared and obviously distained him but still craved his touch. Yes, he had seen it. Before Ronan claimed his body the boy had been slowly inching closer each night, the subtle lean-in when Ronan had placed his hands on him. He could only guess that after three years of only painful physical contact his damaged mind clung to and craved a softer touch. He now understood that if he pleased Ronan he would be rewarded with praise or a caress. And whether he knew what he was doing or not, Quill did his best to acquire both. 

The force that Ronan had used to take him was a setback but an enjoyable one. His slave needed to understand that Ronan could do as he wished and if it caused pain his slave was to accept it. It was not punishment, it was his life. Opening his legs to Ronan was one of his duties. Punishment only came when he didn’t fulfill his duty to his capabilities. 

As much as he enjoyed playing with his slave, tonight he wanted release. He would be true to his promise and show Quill pleasure. In any case the aftereffects in his behavior would no doubt fascinate Ronan. 

He lounged on the bed waiting for his slave to return from his own bath. He watched as Quill entered and warily climbed up into the other side. Ronan waited till the lights dimmed and they were left in the firelight before rolling over, trapping him with an arm around his waist when he made to jump out of the bed. 

His slave made a guttural noise somewhere between a groan and whimper. “Please don’t.”

“Shhh. Be calm. You will enjoy this.” He brought his head down to graze his lips along Quills smooth jaw. “Consider this a reward for your good behavior.”

He looked down at his slave and grinned. The boy was stiff as a board, unmoving, fists in white-knuckled balls, eyes clamped tightly shut. Ronan smoothed his hand down his slave’s torso and back up again to lay his hand softly on the straining neck before leaning over Quill to drag his lips across the other side of his jaw. He trailed them down along his slaves shoulder then lifted his head back to Quills face. He paused for just a moment as he lowered his mouth to Quills, brushing the full lips with his own. Quills eyes shot open the moment contact was made, filling with a mixture of emotions from bewilderment to fear to, though so masked Ronan was sure even Quill didn’t know, longing. He pressed firmer, taking the plump bottom lip between his teeth and tugging. His hand slid up from the boy’s neck to cup his cheek as pushed insistently against Quills lips demanding entry. They parted just the slightest and Ronan drove his tongue in claiming it thoroughly. His slave offered no resistance, simply submitted. He drew his hand away and continued the previous petting. Drawing circles over the flat stomach then coming up and gently rolling one of the small nipples till it pebbled. He raised his head to watch his slave as he moved his hand to the other nipple, repeating the same motions. 

Though he still laid stiff and his eyes were still wide and trained on him, a red stain appeared over his cheeks. He traced his fingers down to the lightly furred thigh pressed against his own body. Shifting slightly, he pulled the leg out and over his knees to open his slave’s thighs widely. The boy jolted when his finger trailed along his soft organ teasingly. He drew it back down and cupped the heavy balls, squeezing and rolling them in the palm of his hand. A faint gasp brought his eyes that had wandered down to watch his hand work sharply back to Quills. The still wet lips were parted, his eyes glistened and the stain over his cheeks reddened further under Ronan’s gaze. His hand slid back to the twitching but still soft member and tugged lightly, grinning when he felt the first stirrings of hardness. Without breaking eye contact he removed his hand and opened the jar of oil between them. Coating his fingers, and smearing it on his hand he brought it back to his slave, taking a firmer hold and began stroking at a maddeningly slow pace. Before long his slave was hard. He’d abandoned clinching his fists to take hold of Ronan’s wrist. Ronan wasn’t sure if Quill meant originally stop his motions but all he seemed to be doing at that point was grasp it tightly.

The boy’s first true moan sent a shudder through Ronan. It was deep and straight from his chest with a sound of desperation that had Ronan’s blood boiling. His slave squeezed his lids closed and turned his head to the side almost shamefully as his hips rose ever so slightly into Ronan’s fist. He would have none of that. With the hand that had been resting above Quills head he turned the face back to him.

“No. Open your eyes and look at me.” When Quill obeyed, eyes pleading for what even Ronan could only guess at, he lowered his head and nipped along the slaves jaw. “Do not hide yourself. I want to see all.”

As his hips began bucking and the moans came more easily Quills face became more open. He could see the shame of his want, the need, and the fear of that need. He abruptly released his squirming slave to retrieve more oil. When he brought his hand back he bypassed his slaves throbbing member and reached down for the small opening. With the first touch Quills body went rigid once more. He tried to close his legs but was blocked by Ronan’s arm. 

He quickly pushed the boys legs back into position with a warning look to keep them there and returned to circle the tight pucker. His slave’s breath hitched and a fine tremor rippled through his once again stiff body. He ignored this as he slowly pushed past the first ring to his first knuckle pulling out before returning to the second knuckle. As he pushed further he began edging and curling his finger toward that spot that would have Quill panting again. He knew he’d found it when his slave gave a sharp cry and his hips jerked making his hard rod bounce obscenely. He rubbed and prodded until Quill was squirming and bouncing on Ronan’s hand, lost to his need. The boy didn’t even notice when Ronan added a second finger, or the third and soon he had his slave stretched around four fingers. His skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and he gasped and moaned unrestricted, his hands griped Ronan’s arm, nails almost piercing his skin. Quills member was straining and leaking and Ronan realized his own was just as hard. He removed his fingers tearing a protest from his slave and shifted his body over Quills. This time his boy didn’t realize anything amiss until Ronan had the head of his cock halfway in. Quills body froze, flushed and panting, and his legs came up to push away. Ronan looped his arms around his slave’s knees, keeping him in place. Without missing a beat Quill pushed his hands under himself, lifting his body to pull away. 

He jerked his slave’s body so he fell back into position. Before Quill could try again Ronan growled, “Enough!”

He was ignored. The boy continued to struggle back. He dropped one leg and reached up grasping his slave’s throat, squeezing tightly. Quills hands instantly went to Ronan’s wrist, tugging. 

“Stop being a fool.” His hand tightened minutely and Quills eyes snapped to his. “Feel your body. Is there pain?”

Quills body stilled and his brows drew together. He looked to Ronan, blinking with uncertainty. Slowly, as well as he could with the hand around his throat, he shook his head. 

Ronan removed his hand to rest on the bed beside Quills head. “Then why are you fighting me?”

The sandy head shook again, “I… I don’t know.”

Ronan sneered. “You do know.” He pushed his hips slightly, allowing his cock to sink into his slave more. “You are afraid.” He pushed again. “It is good to be afraid of your Master.”

He slid more and rested, fully seated in his slave. “But never fight me. I told you this in the beginning. It’s apparent we need to rectify that.” 

His stomach tightened when the boy clenched lightly around him, testing the fullness. He took hold of his slaves jaw and leaned in, pressing his lips firmly on Quills. “We will deal with that in the morning.”

He pulled his hips up, driving himself back with force that sent Quills body forward. His slave gasped at the new sensation and Ronan sat back, hooking the boy’s legs in his arms once more. The heat surrounding him made his skin tingle and he angled his hips to smash into the Terrans spot. 

The boys back arched and the resounding scream had Ronan pulling back only to slam back harder. His slaves shaft, which had softened in the earlier struggle rose as Ronan continued his assault on the little bundle of nerves. He pounded into his slave making his body jerk with each thrust. The body beneath him writhed and twisted, arching and simultaneously trying to pull away from the torment and grinding further onto it. The hands that had twisted into the sheets flew forward to wrap around his dripping cock. Ronan jerked the hands off, securing them in his tight fingered hold against the legs he still held up and apart. 

“You will not touch yourself. You will find your release from me alone or not at all.” His slave practically wailed and Ronan shuddered. His slave was unlike anything he’d seen before. Most would lay there pitifully sobbing as Quill had done last time, which had been Ronan’s goal or they would moan softly in a way they thought he wanted to hear, completely detatched from sexual pleasure. Quill was obviously a sexual being. He was loud in his passion, his mind sinking so fully into the sensation that he had no control over the sounds tearing their way from his throat. His body tossed back and forth in wild abandon, aching for more. Fire rolled through Ronan at the sight. His slave was enchanting.

He leaned down, folding his slave in half to bite sharply along Quills neck. 

“What a wanton thing you are.” He shifted to get a better angle in this position. “I could use you in this manner each time just to see the lust in you unfurl.”

Tears leaked from the crease of Quills eyes, “God. Please!”

Ronan held his mouth over his panting slave’s lips. “Tell me.”

He moaned, gasping, “I want… I need-” Another moan.

Ronan slowed his pace and his slave wailed. “What is it you need? Say it.”

Quill struggled to bounce on the slowed cock. “Oh god! Please I need to cum! Please, I need it!”

“Then do so,” he snarled. With Quills legs and hands still trapped in the crook of his elbows he bent his slave more to fold his hands beneath the straining neck and soft, sweaty curls. He fisted those curls and pulled the head back sharply, exposing the boy’s neck. He latched his teeth around the flesh there and hammered into his slave. As blood filled his mouth Ronan felt the body beneath him stiffen, muscles straining. His slave clenched down on his cock like a vice. The air left his boy and no sound could escape gaping mouth as his eyes rolled back. As he felt the warm wetness against his stomach and the boy slumped Ronan felt his own completion approaching. His momentum picked up to an almost crushing force and his slave whimpered at the assault on his overstimulated body. The Terrans drained, grimacing face sent the flood to the gates. With a roar he slammed into Quill grinding down as he released himself in a steady stream.

He lay there feeling Quill pant under him, no longer straining, simply limp in Ronan’s hold. He brought one hand to his slave’s cheek watching the slowly drooping eyes. 

“You did well.” His slave shuddered. Ronan released him, allowing the dead weighted limbs to fall free as he pulled from Quills warm body and rolled from the bed.

Without looking at his slave, he went and retrieved a warm wet cloth, using it to clean his flaccid glistening cock as he returned to his bedchamber. His slave was already asleep which was just as well. He would need it in the coming days. Ronan had not lied when he told him they would be working on his resistance and fight. He folded the cloth and placed it under his slave, against his well-used hole to catch any fluids that would escape before walking around and arranging himself for sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to give a HUGE thank you to Alysa- thefightingbull for doing the beta work. You are absolutely amazing and everything I was hoping for. So again, thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry this took so long. Let me tell ya, that whole work thing really cuts into your day. ;) 

The next morning he fed his now shy slave. Every other bite he let his finger slide into the boy’s mouth waiting for him to close his lips around it before pulling away. It seemed as though Quill had forgotten the promise he made the night before and it showed on his face when Ronan broke routine by not leaving after they’d both eaten their fill. 

He stood and made for the chest near the chains Quill had spent his first night in. 

“Do you remember the words I said to you when you first came to me?” He asked, opening the chest.

From the corner of his eyes he could see the anxiety ripple along his slave’s posture. Quill wet his lips. “I’m not sure which ones you want.”

Ronan pulled out what he was looking for. The thick metal handle had numerous strips of leather flowing out of the end. At the bottom of each strip was a small beaded knot. He could have chosen a more advanced approach but he enjoyed the physical work that came with using a whip. In any case this whip was modified, so it would suffice. The beads on the end still brought painful welts but they also produced an electrical shock that made your flesh feel as though hot coals were being pushed through your pores. He’d seen men crumble after only a handful of swings. His Terran would probably not be capable of that many and he was loathe to give him more than necessary. He wanted to train his slave, not wreck him. 

He turned, holding it at his side so his slave could view it. “I believe I said, ‘You defied, challenged, and fought me in the past. Do not think to do so again and you will have no worries.’ Do you remember this?” 

He looked from Ronan to the whip then back again. His face paled and Ronan heard a barely audible, “Yes.”

Ronan nodded. “Your days will go much differently now. For how long is up to you.”

He stepped to the side and pulled the hanging chains till they were a height Quill could reach. “After eating each morning you will come secure first your neck,” He pointed to the collar attached to the chain system. “Then each wrist,” he said indicating the cuffs attached to the collar. 

He looked to Quill. “They will lock themselves. Just place yourself in each and they will close.”

Ronan spread his arms. “That is all that’s required of you.” 

Quills eyes were glued to the whip swinging with his movements. His lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them and he looked back to Ronan. With a croaking voice, he asked, “What will you do after?”

Ronan’s brows rose. “That is none of your concern.” He waved to the chains. “Now come and do as I said.”

The boy’s breath became heavy. His head shook. “I don’t want to.”

Ronan frowned. “What you want is not important. Following my command is.”

Quill continued to shake his head. He carefully stood, keeping his eyes on his Master. Slowly he backed away, putting the table between himself and Ronan. 

“I don’t want to,” he repeated. A new terror stood clear for Ronan to see. He could practically smell it pouring from his slave’s skin. It was intoxicating. 

Ronan smiled. “Then we do this the hard way.”

He made for Quill who, at his first step, sprang into action and jumped more fully behind the table. Ronan was not one for chasing and when it became clear his slave expected him to follow him around the table in pursuit, Ronan grasped the edge of the hard metal, flinging it across the room with ease. Quill jumped back and made to dart around his Master. With speed compromised by a limp, he stood no chance of slipping past Ronan. With lightning reflexes he snatched the boy around the middle, lifting him in the air.

“No!” His slave struggled and kicked. Hands pushed at the arms holding him around his waist, half carrying, half dragging him to the chains. Quill had transformed into something wild, screaming and uselessly kicking. He reached up and dug his nails at Ronan’s face and he felt a grin form. His slave was on the edge, his fight or flight instinct in complete control. 

As he fit the cuffs into place his slave practically howled, “This isn’t fair! I didn’t _do_ anything!”

He lifted the chains so Quill had no choice but to stand fully or let his arms take his weight. “Let me go!” He kicked out, struggling to free himself. “I don’t deserve this!”

Ronan laughed, full and loud as he watched his slave thrash and writhe. “But you do,” he said with raised brows. 

Quill screamed with sudden rage. “No! No I don’t. I’ve done everything you’ve said! I do it all!” He jerked and snarled. “I keep my mouth shut and I clean your fucking rooms! I undress you and bathe you like you’re a fucking retard that can’t do it himself! I let you fuck me twice! You! The psycho that gave me to that stinking fat prick Corin. The psycho that lead to my friends DYING! I’ve done EVERYTHING you wanted! I _don’t_ deserve this! None of it!” 

And there it was. The mind that Ronan knew was still there came surging forward to make itself known. His slave broke free of the blankness he had submerged himself in to survive his slavery. No longer whimpering and begging, it screamed and fought as if to prove it was still capable of doing so. This was the mind Ronan wanted to train. Not the blank submissive mind that cringed in fear, but the one that could clearly see and understand. What he planned to do had been a gamble. By making Quill play a part in his own training he would have either broken the boy or pushed Quill’s defenses back so he was exposed to Ronan. He was pleased he didn’t have to break his slave. No more would his slave hide from him. He would mold his mind into accepting rather than hiding. He wouldn’t have to search his slave’s face to find hidden messages. He would openly show Ronan everything and with time, come to crave Ronan without the need to fight the blankness he had been withdrawing to. 

Ronan laughed again. “You and your friends stood in the path of Kree justice. If you had turned and not made nuisances of yourselves none of this would have happened. You would still be free and your friends would be alive. You chose this and you should count yourself lucky you are not rotting as the others are.” 

He bent and retrieved the whip. “Just as you chose punishment today by ignoring my order.” 

As he approached his slave’s eyes widened, fear clearer than he’d seen it yet. It was unconstrained and there was no fine tremor or pathetic whimpering this time. Now the boy showed it all and with it, he twisted in his chains yanking and jerking. “Don’t! Just stop you sick fuc-”

The breath escaped him as Ronan lifted the whip up and out to the side, bringing it down heavily on his slaves back, buttock, and thighs in one swing.

The chained body arched, muscles straining in his bonds. His mouth was held open in a silent scream, unable to bring air to his lungs. He was frozen in his pain and for a moment Ronan wondered if his slave would lose consciousness. Just as the thought entered his mind, Quill gave a great gasping gulp of air before releasing the most glorious scream Ronan had heard in his lifetime. He had no doubt Quill had not been expecting the enhancements. He had probably thought he could handle a simple whip. This was the reason Ronan had chosen this one. The first lash was always a shock as it took its victims by surprise.

He didn’t give the boy time to recover before swinging out again. Quill jerked, once again unable to bring air to his lungs as he lost his footing. The pain sent his nervous system into overdrive and his muscles raced with spasms.

All it took was three lashes and his slave’s eyes went rolling back. Ronan stopped there. If it were any other slave he would have continued until they were no longer responsive. But Quill was still unlike any other. Quill should have counted himself lucky that Ronan had developed a fondness for him. It saved him from quite a bit. 

Ronan dropped the whip and lifted the boys head by his chin, waiting for Quill’s eyes to focus. “Three lashes for three lessons. Don’t not fight me. Do not hide from me. Obey me.”

He reached up and unclasped the chains holding the limp body. His slave dropped in a silent heap. “I expect you to perform your daily tasks as usual.”

He stepped over the gasping form and left him without a backwards glance.

****************

He hadn’t expected his slave to obey him, not now that the rebelliousness had surfaced; so he was highly surprised when he entered his chambers that evening to find that Quill had indeed completed his duties. His slave was also not where he usually was, kneeling next to the fire or hidden in some dark corner. He felt a twinge of irritation as he searched the various rooms within his chambers. He halted in the doorway of his bathing room when he spied Quill sitting in the pool of water. He stared off with a look of deep concentration, not even noticing Ronan in the doorway. 

He watched the boy for a few moments more before turning back to the main chamber and ringing for servants to come assist him with his armor. They came swiftly and within minutes Ronan was once again standing in the doorway of his bathing chambers watching his slave. 

He had thought Quill too far off to realize his presence so he was taken by surprise again, a very rare thing, when his slave began to speak so quietly he almost had to strain to hear him.   
“I don’t understand it.”

Ronan waited for more and when nothing else was said he walked leisurely to the tub to stand over the still man.   
“What don’t you understand?”

Quill’s head turned to look up at him. His eyes held a look of barely contained desperation, looking at Ronan as if begging him to understand his next words. “My life has always been shit and I don’t understand what the hell I did to deserve it.”

Ronan cocked his head to the side.

“I was just a kid.” He turned back to stare off at nothing. “I had to listen to people gossip about my _crazy_ mom. How she thought the father of her child was from outer space. I got bullied at school for it and then had to come home and watch her struggle.” He smiled slightly. “But at least we had each other. We were happy as long as we were together.”

He took a deep breath. “Then she got sick and I couldn’t do anything to stop her body from wasting away. I couldn’t stop her from dying. And then all I could think about is running away and here comes this _thing_ out of nowhere and sucks me up into this craft filled with weird people and creatures all arguing whether or not to eat me or keep me.” He laughed a little here.

“From there I never knew up from down. Everything was different. We didn’t have the good food my mom made, that I was used to. There were no more games or affection. Suddenly I was fed scraps like a pet, and pushed around, and trained to be a thief. But the older I got, the better I got. I earned my place and everything changed again. But life was good, it was exciting and I could do anything I wanted.” 

“And then _you_ came along. For once I thought I should be the good guy. Mainly because you’re fucking psychotic and I didn’t know if you were planning to annihilate everything after you were finished with Xandar, me included.”

Quill suddenly turned and looked up at him. “Did you know I’ve never actually killed anyone?” He half shrugged. “Well, other than in my ship. But I’d like to think the people I shot down had good escape strategies for when they were hit. And it wasn’t very often that I ever had to. The Ravagers used to tease me about it, but I only stunned or knocked people out. I’ve always thought killing was wrong. Even if the person is asking for it. Even if they tried to kill me first. I had every intention of killing you. But I choked. I hesitated and realized last minute that I couldn’t do it. And look where it got me.”

He threw the rag he’d been squeezing while he spoke into the water making it ripple around him. “But you wanna know what really pisses me off about that? Gamora, Drax, Rocket, Groot, they ALL have killed. Both the innocent and deserving. And _I’m_ the one punished. They got to die and be free. They got out of their punishments. They don’t have to suffer for their crimes but I do. And you,” he pointed an accusing finger at Ronan, “you killed millions of people, kids, old folks, innocents, and look at you standing above everyone else. It’s not fair.”

He sighed and dropped his hand to grasp the other resting under the water, watching them wring together. “I just don’t understand.”

Ronan hummed and bent to test the water. Cold. He frowned and lifted the latch to drain the water ignoring the indignant “Hey!” from his slave. He turned the taps to run clean hot water back in and stepped into the tub behind Quill. The man instantly shot up to step out but was pulled back down and manhandled into leaning back between Ronan’s legs against his chest. 

He reached for the cloth discarded earlier, soaped it, and as gentle as he’d ever been with anyone, began running it across his slave’s torso. 

Quill jerked his stiff body at the first touch and growled in a way that had Ronan’s lips stretched into a grin. He was reminded of a miniscule creature trying to look fierce for the larger, deadlier predator. Quill made to stand again but stilled as Ronan tightened his hold around his waist. “I don’t want you here. Let me out.”

He snorted, “The bath is mine and so are you.”

His slave huffed in apparent annoyance and slumped defiantly.

Ronan was quiet for a moment as he ran his hands along his slave’s body then said, “Have you considered that they _were_ punished and you are being rewarded?”

Quill jolted upright and turned halfway to look Ronan in the eye. “Rewarded? How am I being rewarded? You think I enjoy being beaten and r-ra… forced?” He stuttered the last of the sentence and dropped his eyes as his face reddened. 

Ronan’s brows rose and he laughed. “You wouldn’t be beaten if you’d simply do as you are bid without fight. Also, it’s hardly rape if the body I’ve turned my attention to belongs to me. If you didn’t fight your position you might realize my bed is a good place to be.”

“See that’s just it! I shouldn’t belong to anyone! I’m the good guy and I’m stuck with a fucking insane freak that’s probably going to _punish_ me for taking a bath without his permission!”

He smirked and took hold of his slaves jaw, holding firm when he would have pulled away. “Rest assured you won’t be punished for taking a bath.” He brushed his thumb across Quills plump lips. “Punishment for your loose mouth however is a different matter.”

He allowed the boy to jerk out of his hold, chuckling at the glare he received. He handed the soaped cloth to Quill and leaned further back. “Don’t think on it now. Wash me.”

His slave huffed again and turned to face him on his knees. He brought the cloth up to Ronan’s face and with rough swipes began removing the paint. Ronan grasped his wrist and squeezed. “Careful or your hands will gain you extra punishment.”

Quill’s nostrils flared and he closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and nodding stiffly, his lips thinned into a frown. 

Ronan released him and when the hand came back to his face, softer this time, he closed his eyes and spoke. “You should think on your words. If I stand above everyone else then what position does that put you in? You’ve learned the Kree way of life over the months you’ve been with me. You know how slaves of the aristocracy are viewed. So think, if I stand above everyone else, where do you stand?”

His slave’s hand stilled and Ronan continued, “You are given the finest robes, you are given the best food, you take orders from no one but me, emergency procedures call for your evacuation before all others, your priority is only second to mine. Because you are mine you stand above everyone but me.”

He opened his eyes and caught his slave’s gaze. “So as I said, have you considered that they were punished and you rewarded?” 

Quill shook his head. “Losing your freedom isn’t a reward. This is still a cage, no matter how fancy.”

Ronan shrugged lightly. “You’ll understand with time. You’ll learn that there is no need to punish yourself. Trust me to decide what you are punished for and you will be much happier.”

The boy shook his head again, his brows drawn tight. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Irritation raced through him and he let it show. “Your mouth, for example, has already earned you a punishment. Should I add to that?”

Blue eyes met and held his, insolence etched in them. Ronan remained emotionless staring back calmly. The defiance waivered and his slave’s eyes dropped before shaking his head. “No.”

He quietly resumed his work clearing off the paint and dipping to start the rest of his body. As his slave’s soft hands reached between his legs, running the cloth over him with gentle albeit swift work, his organ twitched. He snorted quietly when Quill instantly drew his hands to Ronan’s leg in response.

He stopped him. “No. Make me hard.”

The boy snapped his head up dropping the cloth, eyes wide and incredulous. “Come on! Just give me a break!”

He remained impassive. “You’ve just earned a second correction this evening.”

Ronan sneered as his slave opened his mouth to protest but remained silent. All at once the smaller man deflated. His shoulders slumped and he looked to Ronan with pleading eyes. “Please.” Ronan lifted his hand to his slave’s piteous face and stroked the smooth cheek as he implored again, “Please.”

“You beg beautifully but begging is not what I told you to do. You’ve earned a third correction.”

Quill exhaled sharply. Clutching his hair in tight fists, he half-groaned half-growled. His breath quickened as tension built within his body and Ronan knew what was about to happen before, he suspected, his slave even knew. 

With swift movement he caught the fist flying at him and held it solidly in his own. His violet orbs never left his slave and he watched now as realization hit the boy’s face causing it to pale at an alarming rate, his eyes widened and he looked to Ronan in pure terror. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

He didn’t even fight as Ronan stood, forcing him to stand as well with the tight grip on his fist. “Please, I don’t know why I did that.”

He stepped from the pool of water, guiding a still cooperative Quill with him. “Ronan, please. I’m so sorry.”

He released his fist and took hold of his arm. Looking down at the terrified face he said, “You have no idea how sorry.” 

Tears pooled in his slaves pleading eyes as Ronan turned and walked them out to the main chamber and to the unused slave quarters. For once his slave didn’t drag his feet, seemingly very aware of the trouble he was in and unwilling to fight and earn himself more. 

The room was simple with nothing more than a bed. Ronan released his slave at the foot of it. “Kneel.”

Without a hint of hesitation his slave dropped to his knees. “Don’t move.”

He left Quill and returned to the main chamber and gathered the things he needed. By the time he returned, placing the objects on the bed within eyesight, his slave was shaking, his face impossibly white. Ronan knew that he should strip the flesh from the boy’s back, and had he been any other slave he would have done it without a second thought. But the moment his slave looked at him so wretchedly in the tub, his anger softened just a touch. He knew he had allowed his fascination with the smaller man to build into some odd form of affection and yet he did nothing to lessen it. Instead he handled this boy with a patience no other slave had known. 

No doubt Quill would think what came next was harsh but he had no idea how much his master was holding back. In actuality, he was only planning something most slaves would generally have recognized as mere routine. But he knew this slave’s aversion to humiliation and this, coupled with pain, would be more than enough.

He looked down at the trembling form that stared back up at him. “Open your mouth.”

Pale lips parted slightly and Ronan took hold of his jaw, forcing him to open wider. He brought the strap up placing it over his slave’s teeth and tightening it behind his head, pushing the jaw wider and leaving the mouth obscenely open, unable to close. 

Ronan ignored the heavy breathing from his slave as he reached for the strips of leather on the bed. “Hands behind your back.”

He knelt behind Quill as the boy once again did as he was bid without a fuss and placed them across each other, hands clasping each forearm. He bound them in place quickly and tightly, his slave’s chest pushed out to accommodate the stretch. Next he attached another strip from the strap on the back of the boys head down to his bound arms, bowing his body even more, his head stuck at an arch.

He walked around to face Quill, brushing a finger along his jaw before tracing the stretched lips.

“Do you remember when I told you if you refused to use your hands I would strap your mouth open and take my pleasure?”

His slave, bound as he was, could only stare up at him with pleading eyes. 

He placed two fingers on the soft tongue pushing lightly then sliding them back and down the pale throat. The boy gagged and tried to pull back but was stopped by a tight fist in his hair. He slid his fingers back allowing the throat to contract around them before pulling them out.

Ronan took hold of his half hard member and guided it to rest on the boy’s tongue where his fingers had been. He grinned. His slave was in for a rough time. The head rested heavily, almost filling the boy’s mouth. He was not fully erect and he knew there was no way the boy would be able to take him completely soft or hard. Both of these meant his slave would have to work longer to build up to Ronan’s release. 

He pulled himself back out but held Quill’s head directly in front of his groin. “Pull your tongue out as far as you can and lick.”

When the slave was slow to obey he gave the soft curls a hard yank in warning. “Don’t test me further.”

The first tentative touch sent desire shuddering through his frame. The boy’s licks were soft and light, the unintentional teasing was just enough to make him rock hard sooner than he’d thought possible.

“Flatten your tongue and lick from base to head.” Ronan rubbed the screwed up eyes. “Keep your eyes open.”

His slave was so tantalizing at that moment, his pink tongue pressed against the underside of his cock, with eyes unsure and defeated. 

Ronan laughed when Quill got his first taste of precum, the smaller man gagged and pushed back, pausing in his ministrations. 

He took that time to pull away from Quill’s soft mouth. He walked back around the sandy haired man to sit on the edge of the bed, beckoning him to follow.

His slave hobbled on his knees the best he could. Despite the disgust in his eyes he knew well enough not push Ronan’s patience. When the boy was directly in front of him he jerked his head down and onto his shaft in one swift motion, forcing as much as he could into the wide open mouth. Quill grunted with the force and gagged when Ronan lifted his head with a hand in his hair and repeated the motion. He did not go easy on his boy; instead he continued to slam his face down each time he hit the back of the boy’s mouth. 

The soft tongue rubbed along the underside of his cock as it struggled to push and try to maneuver around the invading rod. If he struggled to free himself, Ronan didn’t notice. The position of the straps didn’t leave much leverage for him to push away. 

His build up was as he guessed, slow to rise and by the time he did release himself into Quills mouth, the boy was wrecked. Tears streamed from his eyes as he coughed and gagged and retched on Ronan’s cock. His face was blotched and his lips wrapped around the gag were swollen and bruised. The sudden flow of cum had him heaving and choking but Ronan left his member firmly seated, forcing Quill to swallow as best he was able or choke.

Abruptly he pushed his slave off and back, letting him fall to his side in a gasping heap.

Standing he turned his back and looked over his options on the bed. “For clarification, that was not punishment. That was simply upholding my promise.”

He turned holding a small metal clip. Ronan bent and straightened his still heaving slave and attached the clip to the mouth piece holding Quills lips apart. It was designed to send a changing and wide-ranging current. In this position it would spread through his slave’s mouth, making his teeth feel as though they were being splintered and his tongue torn from within before spreading to his jaw. He flipped the hidden button on the underside and stood back to watch as his slave got the first jolt it produced. 

As expected, Quills eyes widened then clenched shut as he stiffened and gave a strained moan, instantly trying to dislodge the device with bound arms. 

When the current paused Ronan said quietly, “It will activate in five to fifteen minute intervals with a varied strength. You will wear this for the night. This will be your punishment for your insolent mouth.”

He stooped, switched it off as to not dull the next of his punishments and guided his slave to the bed, where he arranged him face down. He cuffed the pale legs taut then looped a strap under each arm, securing him to the bed, unable to squirm away. 

“For your next two offenses you will receive ten lashes each with a cane. It’s a medieval tool but still effective.”

Ronan picked the long, thin rod up and brushed it down his slave’s buttock and thigh. As he repeated the motion he watched his panting boy. Eyes screwed shut, gasping. Where his arms were tied, his hands clinched white knuckled. His body quivered and trembled in anticipation. Ronan found this to be an almost beautiful sight. 

“I will not hold back my swing. It will be harsh but know that you should find yourself grateful that I am only giving you ten for each. Any other slave would typically find himself facing much more and with an implement far more powerful.”

With that he lifted the cane and brought it down hard across Quills upper bottom. The reaction was not instant, it wasn’t till Ronan brought the cane down slightly lower than that of the first strike, for the second time that Quill reacted. He practically howled as his body arched down as if trying to melt into the mattress, his ass clenching. Ronan did not pause. One after the other he brought the crop down on his screaming slave, making ten perfect stripes across his backside, from top to bottom.

He stepped back and watched his slave struggle against his bonds, the fiery pain that comes with the crop still radiating across his skin. He would feel that fire for several days before it subsided, making him able to feel the bruising that would make any movement painful for close to a week. 

“That was the first ten for your first offense.” He stepped up to his slave again and rested the cane at the top of the quivering thighs. Quill nearly shrieked and garbled inarticulate words, no doubt pleading for Ronan to show mercy. 

He brought the crop up and paused, watching his slave freeze and tense waiting for the blow that didn’t come. Ronan smiled and let it come back down to rest in its previous place. When his slave eased some, he flicked it back up fooling Quill again. He continued this until his slave stopped tensing, just pressed his face into the mattress and quietly sobbed, his body limp. 

He snapped it down quickly. Though Ronan knew the pain from the strike would be delayed, his slave reacted perfectly with guttural cries each time the crop made contact. After ten new stripes were added under the previous ones, he dropped the crop back to the end of the bed. He reached down and flipped the mouth switch back on. As he walked to the door he said loud enough to be heard by his crying slave, “You’ll remain in that position for the night. I will return in the morning to remove the mouthpiece and inform you of your final punishment.”

He shut and locked the door leaving Quill bound and shaking inside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I’m back.....kinda. After the new job and house I ended up having surgery on my wrist and its come with some complications. I know, excuses, excuses. I’m not entirely recovered but the cast is off and the stitches are out. I can type slowly and with a lot of breaks but since I still haven’t been released to go back to work yet I figured I’d at the very least update with the last chapter my beta did. I’ll get back to regular updates but honestly they will come very slowly. 2017 was a crazy year for me!

After dressing and eating the next morning he opened the door to the smell of vomit. His slave, who lay weakly in his restraints, had apparently emptied his stomach during the night. Ronan guessed the cause was somewhere between the pain of the mouthpiece coupled with the crop welts and fear of today. He brushed a finger along one welt and Quill moaned brokenly. 

Ronan began undoing his slave’s bonds and as he did so he explained his last punishment. “You seem to have forgotten your conditions before you came to me. You were ignored, except to receive pain, you were not fed properly, and from the smell you came with, you were not allowed to use the facilities to relieve or bathe yourself often.”

He flipped his slave over after releasing his legs, arms and shoulders and began removing the mouthpiece. “You need a reminder of that, and a lesson in how quickly you can destroy your comparative ease with one act of defiance.”

With the gag removed Quills stiff jaw remained open and he stared with glazed eyes at Ronan. Dried vomit stuck to one side of his face, matting his hair. 

“You will remain in this room until I come to you. I will leave you a pitcher of water and I suggest you use it sparingly. You will have no contact, no food, and no access to facilities. You will be given nothing to ease your pain. When I return, if you are contrite, I will release you.”

He gathered the straps, gag, and crop then turned and left without another word, locking the door behind him. 

***

The days and nights were different without his slave. He’d grown used to another body in his bed and though Quill was mostly quiet, the boy’s presence had become comfortable. Nevertheless he went about his days as usual, passing the slave’s room without a glance at the locked door. Ronan checked on his slave through the ships monitors often though. 

 

The first day Quill mostly slept restlessly. Moaning and twisting, unable to find a comfortable, painless position. On the second day the boy was finally able to close his stiff mouth and drank half of his water supply greedily. The third day, he crawled from the heavily soiled mattress into a corner of the room and only sipped occasionally from the water pitcher. On the fourth day he watched his slave walk wobbly to the locked door, trying the button to open it before knocking softly on it, listening for any sign of an answer outside is little room. On the fifth day his water was gone along with the tentative knocking. He banged on the door and yelled as much as his weakened body allowed. On the sixth day, the boy lay curled on his side in the corner clutching his soft belly as tears silently fell. When the same behavior was repeated on the seventh day Ronan decided to release him when he returned that night. 

When he returned to his rooms he ordered his servants to bring a bowl of thin bland stew and start a hot bath. Ronan, still dressed in his paint and armor slid open the door separating his slave from the rest of the rooms. The putrid smell assaulted his nose and would have had a lesser being’s eyes watering. Quill lay in a tight ball, asleep on the floor. Ronan approached him and lowered himself to his haunches. He traced the boy’s closed lids until they fluttered softly. They opened blearily and it was some time before acknowledgment lit in them. When it did a small gasp left the dry, cracked lips and he uncurled himself weakly, using Ronan’s knees for support as he fell against his chest.

Ronan froze and his brows rose as the slave pressed his face into the exposed area of the thick corded neck, rasping against it, “I’m sorry.” Thin arms snaked around his waist. “I don’t want to go back there again. I’m sorry.”

Ronan had expected some meek form of repentant but nothing to this scale. His slave clung sweetly to him and sobbed softly when Ronan ran a hand through the greasy, matted hair. 

“You won’t, so long as you never strike out at me again.”

Quill shuffled closer, pressing himself against Ronan further. “Can I come out with you?” His whispering voice was muffled against his neck. “I don’t want to be alone in here anymore. I won’t try to hit you and I’ll do what you want.” 

Instead of replying, he scooped his slave up who didn’t so much as gasp or flinch. Just clung tightly to Ronan. He stood and walked to the bathing room. His plan had been to feed Quill first but the boy reeked of urine and vomit. As he lowered his cringing slave into the hot water he contemplated this unexpected reaction to solitude. He honestly hadn’t realized how deeply; mentally affected Quill was to the solitude he experienced with Corin. Had he known, he would have released Quill sooner. 

Although, this turn of attitude was pleasant and satisfying, he was concerned it had touched the boy’s mind. He had never had a slave, born into slavery or new, react the way Quill had to being locked away. Others would have drawn themselves up to their knees and apologized either meekly or grudgingly. Quill however, had practically thrown himself on Ronan and clung out of desperation. The boy had proven himself to be different than all others time and again, but this time it was concerning. 

He was brought back from his musings when fingers wrapped around his wrist as he drew his arms from underneath his fully seated slave. Quill didn’t need to use his voice. His wide, watery blue eyes were transparent. 

“I am not leaving,” he rumbled with assurance to his trembling slave. 

He soaped his slaves’ body, running the cloth from his toes to his head. This was a first for Ronan as well. Never had he attended a slave before, but he doubted his boy would have had the energy to do it himself. So there Ronan sat on the edge of the pool, washing his slave who stared up at him and jolted every time Ronan shifted; as if afraid his master was getting up to walk away. 

He drained the water and refilled it, adding the fragrant oils that suited Quill. He sat back and allowed Quill to soak in the warm water, squirming faintly to find a more comfortable position off of his still sore backside. An odd tenderness unfurled within Ronan’s chest as he watched the eyes droop slowly then snap back open and seek his form. 

It wasn’t normal and Ronan didn’t like it. What was it about this one that made him so soft? He knew this was dangerous. One of the first things he had been taught in his training all those years ago was that a Kree warrior with an attachment was a weak Kree. 

And he was attached to this feeble form in front of him. He enjoyed playing with him, tormenting him, yes, but he also enjoyed simply watching him, petting him. He enjoyed seeing the need in those eyes far more than he should. It wasn’t love. A Kree didn’t know how to love. But it was a fondness he’d never experienced before. 

He decided his slave had enough soaking when the boy’s head threatened to slip underwater. He grasped Quill under his arms and pulled the smaller form up and out of the water. He placed him on his feet but before releasing him he asked, “Can you stand?”

“Yes,” he whispered and nodded. 

Ronan let go but took a moment to make sure his slave was steady before turning to get a drying sheet. He wrapped it around the shivering body that leaned into his own. Ronan looked down at the damp curls resting on his chest armor. Their height difference made Quill seem even more fragile than he truly was. He knew that Quills height was nothing to be scoffed at compared to other Terrans, but tested against Ronan’s size the top of his head rested just under the Kree’s chin. 

He ran his hands over the welted bottom, grinning at the flinch. When he grabbed a handful of each cheek and squeezed his slave grimaced and moaned, trying to bury his face into Ronan’s chest but accepted it without protest. 

Ronan released him and turned to leave calling behind him, “Come.”

Quill swayed and stumbled but followed as quickly as his drained body allowed. Ronan sat and pointed to the spot between his legs where Quill obediently dropped, wincing at the impact on his knees. The boy’s eyes trailed to the tall glass filled with cool water and the bowl next to it. Ronan first took the glass and held it to his slave’s lips, quietly ordering him to, “Sip,” allowing him a few small drinks before setting it to the side and reaching for the bowl. Quill’s fervent eyes followed him, shuffling forward when he saw what Ronan offered. Either he didn’t care, or was unaware of how eager he looked as Ronan brought the bowl forward. 

Before placing the first spoonful into his slave’s open mouth he warned him, “Slowly. I will take it away if you cannot control yourself.”

Quill nodded and sighed when the first food he’d had in seven days landed on his tongue. Ronan could tell it took everything Quill had to chew thoroughly before swallowing, his body eager to consume the spoonful whole. 

He set a measured pace, alternating between feeding Quill and giving him sips of water. When the glass was empty Ronan handed the bowl and spoon to him and stood. 

His slave made to copy the motion and Ronan shook his head. “No. Stay where you are. Finish your food but keep in mind I will not be pleased if you retch it up because you could not show restraint.”

He sidestepped his slave and called to his servants to assist with his armor. Quill did as he was bid but his eyes followed Ronan’s every move, going so far as to turn his body to watch as Ronan walked by naked, to the bathing room. 

He washed quickly and returned to find his slave. Though Quill hadn’t left his spot, he had one hand braced on the floor in front of him; as if at some point he’d made to rise and follow. He wondered how long the boy had been debating on whether to follow him despite his orders not to. He was pleased that obedience overruled. 

“Have you finished?”

Blue eyes dropped to the empty bowl looking as if he expected to see more, then slid back to Ronan. “Yes.” 

“Then come along.” He turned, trusting his slave to follow. 

He was already reclining on the bed when Quill shuffled in slowly stopping at the end, uncertainty showing on his face. Ronan gestured to climb on in his usual spot. Quill eased himself onto his stomach then turned his face to Ronan who did nothing other than dim the lights to off and let himself drift to sleep. 

***

The next morning things were back, more or less, to the way it was before. Quill was his usual quiet self but Ronan could feel the desperation to be close to Ronan pouring off the boy. His blue eyes followed him, but a different light illuminated within them. It was heavy, needy. 

Also clearly visible was the stress of the previous days. The boy held a dilapidated look of someone stretched too thin, as if his will was drained and his mind sapped. There seemed to be no fight left, only acceptance. 

When he finished dressing and returned to stand in front of Quill, the boy looked to him expectantly. Ronan was going to test the waters. See how much his slave had learned in the days of solitude. He was unsure, however, of what his slave’s mind could handle at this point. Nevertheless, he kept his face impassive and reached down to card through the curls on top of his head.

“Before your punishment we were training you to do as you were told without fight.” 

His slave, who had been leaning into his touch with closed eyes, paled and slowly brought guarded blue orbs to meet his violet gaze. 

“We will continue.” Impossibly, his slave’s face became whiter. Ronan nodded to the corner where the chains hung. “You know what is required of you.”

For a very long moment his slave stared up at him with a look of dismay before his body seemed to collapse in on itself and he dropped his head to the floor. His breath hitched and shoulders began to shake heavily, silent except for wheezing gasps. Just as Ronan thought he’d have to drag his slave to the chains and take the whip to him again the boy rose, shaking as he stood to face him. He pleaded to Ronan with his eyes who remained unmoved; waiting. 

Quill took a step backward, toward the chains. “Please,” he choked out.

Ronan mirrored his step, cocking his head to the side. “Please what?”

Quill gasped for breath between his weeping. “I can’t take it.” Two more steps were taken and mirrored. “Please,” he said again. 

Excitement bloomed within Ronan as he followed his slave to the chains. Ronan’s eyes, he knew, were lit and bright waiting to see if his slave would go all the way, if he would accept it. He watched Quill with veiled anticipation, the only hint of his thrill was the small upward curve of his lips. 

The boy stopped just beneath the chains, his arms wrapped around his stomach, looking between them and Ronan who stopped in front of him, so close he was almost touching him. Quill’s eyes dropped and he tilted his head to rest against Ronan.

“I can’t handle it.” He mumbled into his chest, shuddering air to his lungs. “I swear, I’ll die.” 

When he received no response, he untangled an arm from around his stomach and reached for the metal collar. With shaking hands, he fit it against his neck and jolted when it snapped closed of its own accord; as he’d been told it would. A new wave of tears flowed and a tremble flitted along his body as he lifted his wrist to one of the cuffs and by the time the other wrist was secured he was practically hyperventilating. 

Ronan’s nostrils flared as pleasure filled his chest. Quill jerked in his chains, flinching when Ronan, with a quick movement, wrapped an arm around his thin waist and lifted him flush against his armored body. He guided the still crying boy’s head to his shoulder, petting softly. 

“Tell me why you locked yourself in the chains.” 

His neck quickly became damp with this slave’s tears.

“Because you told me to.” His quivering voice was barely audible. 

He fisted the curls and brought his head up to face him. “Are you afraid?”

The red face crumpled and he sobbed, “Yes.” His head nodded as much as the grip in his hair allowed. “Yes, please. I can’t take anymore.”

Ronan smiled and brushed his mouth against the trembling lips of his slave. “Calm yourself,” he rumbled, collecting the salty tears hanging on the edges of the plump mouth. “You are afraid and yet you did as you were told. Is that not the lesson I said you would learn?”

Quill paused and swallowed; nodding with a jerk.

Ronan hummed and bit at the mouth beneath his. “Then maybe instead of being punished a reward is due for doing so well?”

The boys breathe hitched and jumped from the effort of his tears and he looked at Ronan with wet, unsure eyes. He released Quill’s hair and brought the now free hand to his boy’s mouth, tapping lightly with two fingers. 

“Suck.”

Quill didn’t hesitate and drew the fingers in, sucking and lapping with his tongue. Ronan trailed his lips down the smooth jaw, nipping lightly. “Very good. Make them wet.”

He slid his fingers back and forth across the tongue trying to wrap itself around them, collecting as much saliva as he could. 

He pulled the fingers away and dropped his arm between their bodies, pushing his slave’s thighs apart. He passed by the very soft member there and went directly for the small opening between the rounded globes. He circled it lightly with his middle finger and felt his slave’s body tense in anticipation of pain that didn’t come when Ronan breached the tight ring. His finger slid in easily and Quill slumped in relief only to yell and go taut when Ronan dived straight for his hidden bundle. He prodded and rubbed softly while his slave squirmed in his hold, trying to draw his legs up. When the boys cock started to fill and rise, Ronan tightened his hold around his waist and hoisted him higher with the arm between his legs.

He fastened his lips to a vein in the boy’s neck, biting and growling out in a low tone, “You did very good, pet.” 

Quill whimpered a moan while Ronan continued. “The way you so bravely fought your fear and obeyed.” He slipped the second finger in next to the first, using both to caress inside him. “I am proud of you.”

Quills legs tightened around his arm, squirming to find some friction against his armor. His hands jerked in their hold as a reflex, trying to bring it down to wrap around his hard member. He groaned and thrust himself against Ronan.

“Please, touch me!”

Ronan’s brows rose. “I am touching you.” He swirled his fingers in emphases. Quill’s eyes rolled back and his mouth dropped open, shuddering. 

“No, no, I need more! Oh, God I need it.”

“Tell me what you need.”

His slave groaned and swiveled his hips. “T-touch my cock. I need your hand on it.”  
Ronan growled and bit at his boy’s ear. “Such a filthy mouth. One could almost be tempted to give in.” Quill cried out at this, hoping no doubt, his request would be granted. 

Ronan pressed in harder. “But you should know by now I don’t give in to anything.” The boy wailed and clenched his eyes, trying in vain to bounce on Ronan’s fingers. “I am giving you all you need to find release.”

Quill cried out, “I can’t do it! I need more!”

Ronan chuckled darkly. “Greedy boy.” He pulled his fingers out, slamming them back in and jabbing almost cruelly against his slave’s knotted spot. The trapped boy jerked high in his hold and tossed his head back as far as the collar allowed. Ronan withdrew and slammed in again and again, fast and hard, his hand making obscene sounds against the slave’s ass. 

Quill sobbed, bounced, and rocked; lost in his need, crying out garbled words. Pleading with Ronan through moans. His legs twisted, squeezing against the thick armored arm. 

Ronan felt the muscles in Quills back clench and he knew the boy was close. “Look at me.” The blue eyes snapped to his. “Come for me.” Quill whimpered and twisted. 

Quill’s head dropped forward suddenly, pressing against his neck. The body in his arms stiffened and small teeth clamped down on his neck as Quill’s pearled come shot between their bodies. 

Ronan growled as the small teeth rolled his flesh, sharply. He smashed his hand against Quills clenching ass, his fingers jamming further and harder than before, set at a brutal pace until the boy threw his head back with a keening scream.

 

He twisted, trying to escape the onslaught against his over sensitized prostate. “Stop! Oh God, no more! It’s too much!”

Ronan continued until Quills eyes rolled back and his body spasmed. Only then did he remove his fingers and let the boy go limp in his arms. 

Ronan pulled his arm from between the shaking legs that instantly wrapped around his waist, and reached up to unclasp the cuffs around his wrists and neck. They draped across his shoulders in a light hold as soon as they were free. Ronan, with one arm still around his waist and the other splayed across his bottom, turned and made for his bed just through the door nearest to the chains. With one knee to support him on the bed, he laid his slave upon it. When he didn’t move right away, Quill’s eyes opened and met his. 

“You have pleased me.” He dipped his head to press his lips against Quill’s, who parted without prompting, and drove his tongue in, stroking Quill’s once before pulling apart. 

He untangled the boy’s limbs and rose, walking to the cabinet for a cloth. He wiped his armor off as he returned to Quill. Tossing the rag on his stomach he said, “Rest for now then see to your duties. Make sure the room you stayed in is thoroughly cleaned. Have the servants remove and replace the mattress there as well.” 

As he made to leave he was stopped by a quiet, “Ronan?” He turned to the sight of his slave half sitting, using his arms for support. 

“Can I just go with you today?”

His brows rose, concern for the boys mind building again. “No. You have duties to see to, as do I.” When the shoulders slumped minutely he added in a softer tone. “I will return this evening as I always do. Rest, then start your tasks. You will be fine.”

Quill nodded with his eyes dropped. Ronan came back to his side and pushed his slave to lay back and shifted the covers over his body. He trailed one finger down the smooth jaw, then turned and left.


End file.
